"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.

"What chance, then, have we of making ourselves heard, and getting help from them?" again asked Cousin Silas. "None," said Burkett, in a sad tone.

"Then it must be done!" exclaimed Cousin Silas, in a firm tone. "Friends, one of us must endeavour to reach the shore by swimming. The risk is great. It is a long way, but it is the only means by which we may be saved. The strongest and best swimmer must make the attempt."

"I wish that I were a better swimmer than I am," said Burkett, "but I do not think I could do it."

"I am but a poor one—I know that I could not," added Kilby with a sigh.

"I'll try, Mr Brand," cried Jerry; "I can float for ever so long, if I can't swim all the way."

"I'll go with you," said I, preparing to throw off my clothing as Jerry was doing.

"No, no; neither of you lads must go," exclaimed Cousin Silas, eagerly. "I was prepared for the risk when I made the offer. Harry, tell my mother, if you escape, how I thought of her to the last. Never forget what I have just been talking to you about. Gerard, your father will understand that I died in the discharge of my duty. Friends, good-bye; I trust that God, in his good pleasure, will enable me to bring you Help."

Saying these words, he handed us his clothes, which we hung across the keel of the boat, and then he slid off into the dark water, and struck out directly for the shore. As soon as he was gone, old Surley seemed resolved to follow his example; and though we tried to hold him, he dashed off into the water, and away he went, swimming quietly by the side of Mr Brand.

"One good thing is, the old dog will perhaps help him if he gets tired," remarked Jerry. "I've heard of them doing such things."

Cousin Silas calculated that, being carried to the south by the set of the current he should thus land directly under the light. With calm, steady strokes, he clove his way through the yielding fluid. Not a sound escaped from his manly breast, nor could we detect the noise made by his slowly-moving hands, as they separated the water before him. How earnestly did we pray for him!—how eagerly did we watch him, till his head was shrouded in darkness.



CHAPTER SEVEN.

ROUNDING CAPE HORN.

On drifted the boat! Darkness was above us—darkness was around us!— that small beacon-light the only source of hope. Without it we must have given way to despair. How eagerly, how intently we listened for the sound of Cousin Silas's shout, should he have succeeded in reaching the shore! We came almost abreast of the light; not a sound reached our ears.

"It is a long distance for the voice of a man exhausted with swimming to be heard," said Burkett. "He scarcely, too, could have reached there yet." We thought not either. We relapsed into silence and listened.

"O Burkett! what of the kelp?" suddenly exclaimed Kilby. "Can he ever swim through it?"

My heart sunk within me as I heard the question; what man, even the strongest swimmer, freshly taken to the water, could force his way through those tangled masses of sea-weed? My noble-hearted cousin, was he then to be the first victim among us?

"The shore is sandy thereabouts, and unusually free from kelp. There is a natural dock where the schooner lies, and clear water all round."

These words spoken by Burkett again revived my hopes. Still not a sound reached us. We could distinguish no signal from the shore to give us hope. Blacker and blacker grew the night. More keenly whistled the wind. The sea-birds' shriek, echoing it seemed from the caverned rocks, sounded like a funeral wail. We fancied that many a fierce albatross was hovering over our heads, to pounce down on us when nature gave way before our sufferings.

"Harry, Harry!" said Gerard in a low voice, "I don't think I can stand this much longer. Oh, my poor father! my poor father! how sorry he will be to think that I should often have done things which I knew would vex him."

"Silence," said Burkett; "we must try at all events and make ourselves heard, lest Brand should have failed to reach the shore. Now get ready for a shout; never fear cracking our voices."

We were just then, as far as we could judge, directly abreast of the light. Every instant after this would be making our case more hopeless. How we shouted, again and again! but all we heard in return was the discordant shriek of the sea-fowl as they flew away startled at the noise. So we drifted on. In vain we shouted; our voices grew weary, and we gave it up in despair. Our eyes were still fixed on the light. We sunk lower and lower. We held on to the boat, but every moment increased our difficulty in so doing, the wind getting up, or rather we had drifted into a more exposed part of the channel, and the boat began to toss about, while the spray beat wildly over us. How long the time seemed! Every moment was counted as a minute; every minute as an hour. We had to gripe on to the keel with all our might, or we should have been washed off. With the greatest difficulty we could retain our hold. Yet we could still see the light dimly glimmering in the distance; but as that grew fainter and fainter, so did our hopes of being rescued. Scarcely could we see the light; dimmer and dimmer it grew; then we looked—it had disappeared! The rapid current hurried us on. The wide, storm-tossed Southern Ocean lay spread out before us. Darkness was around us. No land could be distinguished. Hope of life fled. We all prayed. We encouraged each other. We resolved not to give way to despair while life remained. We had to speak in a loud tone to be heard.

"Silence!" exclaimed Burkett abruptly. "I heard a sound. Yes, yes! See, see! Heaven be praised; that noble fellow Brand is safe, and we may yet be saved!" As he spoke, a thin stream of light shot upwards from the dark ocean, and broke into a thousand beautiful coruscations above our heads. "A rocket! the schooner had some on board for signals," cried Burkett. "She is under weigh to look for us!"

About the light we had no doubt; but it was scarcely possible that he could have heard any sound. None, at all events, had reached our ears. A few moments before, we had been prepared to die; now life, with its many fancied advantages, occupied all our thoughts. With intense eagerness we looked towards the spot whence the rocket had ascended. All was darkness. Suddenly a light burst forth; of intense brightness it seemed, as it shed its rays over the foam-sprinkled, dancing water, and showed us clearly the spars, and rigging, and white canvas of the schooner. We shouted long and lustily, but we were too far off to be heard. Our hearts sunk, for she was standing away from us. Once more we shouted. Our shout was answered from a different direction from that where we had seen the schooner. Earnestly we listened. We could distinguish, too, the loud barking of a dog.

"Old Surley is safe, at all events. I am glad of that, poor fellow," exclaimed Gerard. "I like that old dog."

We watched eagerly. A light was observed dancing over the seas. Again we cried out. How cheery struck those sounds on our ears, which we had thought would never hear the human voice again. In less than five minutes a whale-boat dashed up to us, with old Surley in her bow, and at her stern sat Cousin Silas. We were saved! and before we could speak, we sank down on our knees, to return thanks to Him whose right arm had preserved us. A few words served to tell us how Cousin Silas had reached the shore a little way above the station, with old Surley as his companion; how kindly he had been received, and how promptly every one rushed to man the boats to hasten to our rescue.

In less than an hour we were at the station, when the schooner and the other boats soon returned. We were put to bed and rubbed with blankets, and had hot rum and water poured down our throats, so that very soon we recovered; nor did we suffer any material injury from the cold and wet to which we had been so long exposed. The schooner had been delayed, being unable to complete her cargo of seal-skins by the time expected. The next day we sailed, and in three days arrived safely in Stanley. We found the Triton ready for sea, and only waiting our return to sail. I was in the cabin when Captain Frankland first saw Gerard after hearing of our escape. Tears stood in the old man's eyes as he took his son in his arms; and I saw by the expression of his countenance how he loved him. Mr Brand always stood high in his estimation; when he heard of what Silas had done, he stood higher still. I must own it, Jerry and I very soon forgot the awe-inspiring thoughts which had passed through our minds while we expected so soon to be called into eternity. Our chief concern was, having lost our guns and gamebags. We were, therefore, highly delighted when Burkett and Kilby made their appearance on board, each with a very good fowling-piece in his hand, with powder-flasks and shot-belts, and all other requisites, and begged our acceptance of them, in remembrance, as they said, of the adventures we had gone through together.

"Thank you, thank you," we exclaimed; "we'll not forget you, at all events, wherever we go."

We called our guns after the good-natured donors, and had their names engraved on them. Many a wild-fowl did Burkett and Kilby knock over in various parts of the world. Old Surley accompanied our visitors. Mr Brand and he had become great friends after their long swim together; and Kilby, to whom he belonged, in the warmth of his heart presented him to Cousin Silas, who, very much to our satisfaction, did not refuse the gift. Thus old Surley became our companion in many a subsequent adventure. Just before we sailed, some very sad news reached the colony. It was the death of Captain Allen Gardiner and his six companions on the bleak coast of Terra del Fuego, where they had gone for the purpose of forming a missionary establishment, with the hope of spreading a knowledge of the Christian faith among the benighted inhabitants of those wild regions.

Captain Gardiner had left England in the autumn of 1850, with Dr Williams, a surgeon, who went forth as a catechist; Mr Maidment, who held the same office; Erwin, a carpenter; and three Cornish fishermen, named Badcock, Bryant, and Pearce. The Ocean Queen, the ship in which they took their passage, proceeded on her passage to the Pacific, after landing them at Banner Cove in Picton Island, which will be found near the entrance of Beagle Channel, about half way between the Straits of Le Maire and Cape Horn. They had with them two large boats, called the Pioneer and Speedwell, and two small punts, with tents and stores; but their supply of provisions appears to have been very scanty. Scarcely had they pitched their tents when the natives collected in considerable numbers, and threatened to attack them. To avoid collision, they ultimately took to their boats, intending to seek another spot where they might form their station. They put to sea; but in going out of the harbour the Speedwell, under charge of Dr Williams, got entangled among the rocks, and was nearly lost. All hands on board suffered much. Captain Gardiner had in the meantime found Bloomfield Harbour, which he thought would suit them, but during his cruise had lost the punts he had in tow. He at last returned to Banner Cove; but on sailing again his boat got on shore. Then it was discovered that all their powder had been left on board the ship, and so they had no means of killing the wild-fowl on which they depended chiefly for their support. Some of their provisions they buried here as a reserve. Again they put to sea; but their boats, which they clearly had not strength to manage, were beached on their way to Bloomfield Harbour. After a fortnight's delay, they got afloat and sailed on to a spot about forty miles along that iron-bound coast, called Spaniards' Harbour, which, after much consultation, they agreed would be the fittest place for their location. Here they arrived at the end of January 1851; but the Pioneer was driven on shore, and irretrievably wrecked. So they collected what stores they could save, and dragged them into a cave near the spot—her remains being hauled up on the beach. Dr Williams, meantime, carried the Speedwell further up the harbour, and anchored her there. Disasters followed them. A tide higher than usual washed into the cave, and swept away a large portion of their stores; then a hut they had built under the rook caught fire; and Captain Gardiner barely escaped with his life; lastly, scurvy broke out. Their provisions were running very short, so they sailed back to Banner Cove, to procure those they had left there. The provisions were found; but the scanty store could only last them a few months. They seemed to have a foreboding of the fate which awaited them. On conspicuous places on the rocks they wrote in large letters, "Go to Spaniards' Harbour. Hasten! hasten! We are suffering from sickness—we are nearly starving!" Words of the same signification were written on paper, and buried in bottles where they might most likely be found.

They reached Spaniards' Harbour by the end of March. Captain Gardiner took up his habitation at the cave, in the place he called Earnest Cove, to watch for those who, it was hoped, would come to their relief; while Dr Williams went to a more sheltered spot, up the harbour, at the mouth of Cook's River, with the Speedwell. The months passed slowly by. Their food was all gone. They caught and ate mice, a fox, a fish half devoured, a penguin and shag—most unwholesome food—and then mussels and other shell-fish; and then the Antarctic winter set in; and lastly, through disease and starvation, one by one they died. They had kept a daily record of their proceedings—of their sufferings. While they had strength, they occasionally assisted each other. The last effort of the two survivors was to go on crutches to Cook's River, to learn the state of Dr Williams, who had for long not come to them; but their weak state compelled them to abandon the attempt, and they returned to die in Earnest Cove. Maidment had been sleeping in the cave—he died there; Captain Gardiner near the remains of the Pioneer, which had been hauled up on the beach, and with which he had formed a slight shelter for himself from the weather. They had kept their journals to the last; and wonderful as it may seem, though storms had raged and rains had fallen, those journals had been preserved. Captain Gardiner's last written words were addressed to Dr Williams, of whose death he was not aware:—

"Dear Dr Williams,—The Lord has seen fit to call home another of our little company. Our dear departed brother left the boat on Tuesday afternoon, and has not since returned. Doubtless he is in the presence of his Redeemer, whom he served faithfully. Yet a little while, and though ... the Almighty, to sing praises ... throne. I neither hunger nor thirst, though ... days ... without food ... Maidment's kindness to me ... heaven."

In October a schooner was despatched from Monte Video with provisions, under the charge of a Captain Smyley. Too late he reached Spaniards' Harbour, and having just time to visit the Speedwell in Cook's River, a gale springing up, he was compelled to put to sea without ever landing at Earnest Cove. In the meantime, Captain Morshead, in the Dido frigate, having sailed from England, was ordered to call at Picton Island with relief for the party. After continuing the search for some time, they were about to abandon it, when the inscriptions on the rocks were discovered, calling on them to go to Spaniards' Harbour. There the Dido proceeded. Maidment's body was found in the cave, Captain Gardiner's by the side of the boat, with their journals and books scattered around. Their remains, with those found at Cook's River, were carefully interred in a grave on the beach—the funeral service being read by one of the lieutenants. The colours of the ship and boats were struck half-mast, and three volleys of musketry fired over the graves. The journals—not a word of which was, as I have said, rendered illegible—were carefully forwarded to England, and, like voices from the grave, have undoubtedly instigated many to aid those who seek to spread the truth of the gospel among the savage inhabitants of those wild regions.

"Those noble Christian men have not suffered in vain; and yet they met the just doom of those who neglect to take those precautions which are necessary for the preservation of life. God has, in his infinite wisdom, given us reason and forethought; and that reason and forethought we ought to employ as much when engaged in his service, as when occupied about the ordinary affairs of life." This remark was made by Captain Frankland, and I have often since reflected on it; and I trust that by repeating it, it may tend to guide the plans of those labouring in objects for the spread of God's great name and glory, and all the blessings of the gospel throughout the world. The particulars of the narrative I have thus briefly given had just reached Stanley, and were the subject of conversation among all those who had any idea above that of the price of seal-skins and the profits of the last wreck on their shores.

With a fair wind and fine weather we sailed to double Cape Horn, intending to pass through the Straits of Le Maire. Often on the passage did Gerard and I and Cousin Silas talk of the fate of Captain Gardiner, and long to visit the spot where he and his brave companions died, and to see the strange wild natives it had been his ardent desire to bring to a knowledge of the truth. The favourable breeze carried us through the straits, and as the well-defined outline of the rocky shores of Terra del Fuego rose before us, we gazed with deep interest on a land which had been the scene of the sad catastrophe now occupying our thoughts.

To the west and north of us were numerous islands clustering together, of various sizes, with deep channels between them, most of them consisting of rocky mountains, often rising in perpendicular precipices from the ocean, and shooting upwards to a vast height in towering peaks and rugged crags, untrod by the feet of man or beast. Along the shores of these numerous isles and islets are gulfs and bays, and coves and creeks without number, often with level ground in their neighbourhood producing a somewhat rich vegetation, and forming a great contrast to the terrifically wild and barren tracts which are the chief characteristics of the region. Bold, precipitous headlands, with dark barren elevations behind them, appeared on our right as we skirted the northern shores of the straits. We made Cape Good Success, and a little way beyond it, crossed abreast of the mouth of Spaniards' Harbour, into which rolls the whole set of the South Atlantic. Then standing on till near the entrance of the Beagle Channel, up which a little way lies Picton Island, we stood away towards Cape Horn, so as to steer close round it into the Pacific. Captain Frankland had often been here, and had once brought up in a harbour for many days from bad weather, when he had surveyed many of the passages in his boats. I was below; Gerard rushed into the cabin.

"We are off the Cape! we are off the Cape!" he exclaimed; "it is a sight worth seeing." I hurried on deck, and thence I beheld rising not a mile from us, in all its solitary grandeur, that far-famed promontory Cape Horn,—a lofty pyramid frowning bold defiance towards the storm-tossed confines of those two mighty oceans which circle the earth. Dark clouds rested on its summit, foam-crested waves with ceaseless roar dashed furiously at its base, the sea-fowl flew shrieking round it; and as I gazed at it, I could not help thinking how an old heathen would have believed it the very throne of the god of storms. Well has it earned its fame. Scarcely were we round the Cape, when the wind, which had hitherto been favourable, shifted suddenly to the westward and southward, and dark clouds came rushing up from that quarter in hot haste, like a stampede of wild animals on the prairies of America. The long swell which had been rolling up from the east was met by a succession of heavy waves torn up by the fierce gale blowing along the whole course of the Southern Pacific, creating the wildest confusion on the world of waters. A few minutes before it seemed we were gliding smoothly on before a favourable breeze, under topsails and top-gallant-sails; now the ship was madly plunging into the foam-covered tossing seas.

"All hands shorten sail!" cried Mr Renshaw, the first officer.

"All hands shorten sail!" was repeated along the decks.

"I thought how it would be when I saw the nightcap on the top of the Horn," muttered old Ben Yool. "We shall have a sneezer before we have done with it, and it may be this day month won't see us round the Cape."

Old Ben's prognostications were not very pleasant, for we were anxious to be round the Cape among the wonders we expected to behold in the Pacific. Scarcely was the order given, than the crew were in the rigging. Top-gallant-sails were quickly stowed, three reefs were taken in the topsails, and the courses were brailed up and furled. This was done not a moment too soon: the mighty seas came rolling up mountains beyond mountains, with wide valleys between them, into whose depths the ship plunged down from each watery height as it came under her, seeming as if she could never rise again. Still once more she was lifted upwards among showers of spray, which flew off from the white-crested seas, deluging us fore and aft. Overhead the wild scud flew fast, the stern Cape looked more solitary and grand, and the sea-fowl with discordant shrieks flew round and round, closing in the circles they were forming till they almost touched our masts. The ship struggled bravely onward on the starboard-tack, rapidly increasing her distance from the land, but making very little way to the westward.

More than once I held my breath and clenched my teeth, as I felt the ship sending forward, and saw the wide, deep valley into which she was plunging, and the long, huge, watery height rolling on towards us, and looking as if it must overwhelm us. And then, when having, by a miracle it seemed, escaped the threatened danger, to see another valley just as deep and wide, and another mountain just as big—and to know that though we might rush ever so fast onward, we should find valley after valley just as deep, and mountain after mountain just as big for days and days, or weeks to come, perhaps; when, too, I heard the howling and whistling of the wind, and the creaking and complaining of the timbers and bulkheads, and the roar and dash of the seas,—I own that I could not help wishing that my feet were planted on some firm ground, and that I were enjoying the wild scene from a distance.

"O Jerry, where are we going to?" I exclaimed, when we first met the full swell of the Pacific.

"Going? why, to the west coast of South America, and to Robinson Crusoe's Island, and to all sorts of wild places," he answered, laughing. "We have rather a rough road before us, as you say; but never mind, Harry, you'll soon get accustomed to it, and a little bumping is good for the digestion, they say."

Jerry was right; in a very short time I was as much at home as any one in a gale.

The puff we had got off the east coast of America showed me what a gale was; but that was mere child's play to the storm now blowing. When I thought anything was at its worst, when matters wore a most gloomy and threatening aspect, I could not but admire the coolness and self-possession of Captain Frankland and his officers. They seemed to take it all as a matter of course, and walked the deck as composedly as in a calm, only they had to hold on pretty tightly at times to the weather-railings, when the ship, with a sudden jerk, was sent over to port, and then back again almost as far on the other side. It was fine, however, to see the tall figure of Captain Frankland, as he balanced himself, leaning backward when the ship shot downwards into the trough of the sea; and I soon gained confidence from the perfect composure he exhibited. Very soon the wind came round more to the northward of west, and the ship looked up rather nearer to her course round the Cape. Our satisfaction, however, was soon destroyed by the redoubled fury with which the gale came down on us. The captain beckoned Mr Renshaw and Mr Brand to come to him. They stood in earnest conversation on the quarter-deck. Darkness was coming on—I could just see their figures grouped together. With startling energy Mr Renshaw had just given the order to furl the fore and mizzentop-sail, to heave the ship to, when there was a loud crash.

"Down! down for your lives!" shouted the captain. The main-topmast had been carried away. Masts, and yards, and blocks, and rigging, came hurtling down on deck in one mass of ruin, injuring two or three of our men, and knocking one poor fellow overboard. In vain an attempt was made to save him. To lower a boat would have been madness. His death-shriek sounded in our ears as he dropped astern, and soon sunk beneath the dark, troubled waters. We had little time to think of his fate—the fate of many a gallant seaman. Our own danger was great. The mates sprung forward to clear the wreck, and to secure as well as could be done the other masts. The fear was that the fore-topmast and mizzen-topmast, if not the lower masts, deprived of their support, might go likewise. The wreck was quickly cleared, and the masts got on board. To stand on or to heave to were equally out of the question. It was necessary to put the ship before the wind. The mizzentop-sail was furled, the helm put up, and the ship was to be wore round. Now came the danger. In wearing, if a sea strikes a ship abeam, there is a great risk of her bulwarks being stove in, and of everything being washed from her decks. Every one held on to whatever he thought most secure. The ship wore steadily round. A huge sea came rolling on, but already the fore-yard was squared; it struck her on the counter, and she flew unharmed before it. Instead, however, of running to the eastward, she was headed up towards the land. No one turned in that night. Sharp eyes were on the look-out for land. Cape Horn, like some gigantic spirit of the deep, was seen towering up amid the raging ocean. On we kept. Once more we were under shelter of the land, the mizzen-top-sail was set, and we ran up just outside those islands which cluster thereabout so thickly, till at daylight we were off the mouth of a channel, up which we ran, and dropped our anchor in a fine land-locked harbour.

"We are far better off here than battering about outside, and knocking the ship to pieces," observed Mr Pincott, the carpenter. "Now, if we could but get a fresh spar for a topmast, we should soon be all ataunto."

As, however, we were not likely to find spars large enough for the purpose in this part of the world, it was necessary to make use of the broken one. While this work was going on, it was resolved to hold some communication with the natives. A boat was lowered, under charge of Mr Brand—Gerard and I and Mr McRitchie going in her, and two hands, as no more could be spared from attending to the repairs of the ship. We were all armed, but the captain directed us to be very careful in our intercourse with the wild people we might meet. We had with us some trinkets, glass necklaces, bracelets, rings, gilt lockets, knives, scissors, and other trifles, to barter with them, or to win their good-will. After pulling some way, we reached a sandy cove surrounded with trees of good height, and a quantity of brushwood below them. We saw several wigwams among the trees, and two canoes hauled up on the beach. Beyond the wood were ranges of high hills, the nearest ascending almost precipitously from the water, while those further off were worthy of the name of mountains. It was altogether a very beautiful and attractive scene—the more so, that it was totally unexpected in that region. No natives were visible, so we ran the boat on shore, and landed. The wigwams were in shape like those of the North American Indians composed of a number of long sticks stuck in the ground in a circle, and bending inwards till their other ends met, and were secured together with a band. Instead of being covered with birch bark, these were thatched very neatly with dry grass or reeds, and formed very warm abodes. In the centre a pile of ashes showed where their fires were placed. Their canoes were very like those of North America, being built of bark, with ribs neatly formed, and kept in shape by several beams athwartships secured to the gunwale. Near the wigwams were two other partly finished canoes. While we were examining these rude habitations and means of locomotion, a shout from the two men left in the boat made us look up, and in an opening in the wood we saw some dozen or more savages advancing stealthily towards us. Mr Brand, the instant he saw them, told us to fall back behind him; and he then advanced alone, patting his stomach,—the sign of amity among these people. It is as much as to say, I suppose, "I have had a good dinner, and I hope that you have had one also." They, in return, all shouted and gesticulated most vehemently, pointing to their mouths in their eagerness to speak, not being aware, probably, that we did not understand a word they said; however, at last they began to pat their stomachs, and then we knew that all was right. Accordingly we advanced to meet them, patting our stomachs with one hand, and holding out the other to grasp theirs. They were of a brownish copper colour, well formed and athletic, with long shaggy hair—their only clothing being a piece of skin thrown over one shoulder. In such a climate as that of Terra del Fuego, their being able to go without clothes shows that they must be of a very hardy nature. We were soon surrounded by some thirty or more of these very unprepossessing gentlemen, all talking most furiously to us or at us, some patting us on the back, and others examining our handkerchiefs, and caps, and buttons, or any article of our dress they could get hold of. We patted them on the back in return, but as they had no clothes, we took hold of their hair and admired it; and Jerry must needs catch one fellow by the nose, and assured him that he had a very handsome nob! In this way we in a short time became excellent friends, though, as we had no interpreter, we could only communicate with each other by signs. When they found that we did not understand what they said, they hallooed louder and louder; and as they had voices of most stentorian power, they at last spoke to us in a perfect roar, till they almost deafened us! By their tones we fancied that they were saying, "Well, if you cannot understand that, you must be desperately stupid fellows."

When they found that we had come as friends, they invited us to accompany them to the village, or, as Jerry called it, their wigwamment, about a quarter of a mile off, in a sheltered nook among the trees. Fearing no treachery, we agreed, and we walked along in the most amicable way, they slapping us on the back, and we slapping them, while they often indulged in the most uproarious shouts of laughter. Stopping suddenly, they asked us by signs if we were hungry, and immediately gathered a number of fungi, which grew in clusters round the roots of a tree which Mr McRitchie told us was an evergreen beech. They handed them to Jerry and me, at the same time patting us on the stomach.

"What are these toadstools for, old gentleman?" exclaimed Jerry, holding them up and laughing. "They don't want us to eat these, surely, for our luncheon?"

"They do, though," said Mr McRitchie. "They are the edible fungi. Just take a piece; the people hereabouts eat them largely."

Jerry on this took a large mouthful, but spat it out, declaring that he would just as soon eat shoe-leather. I ate a small piece, but thought it tasted very insipid, and not very digestible. The savages looked astonished at our want of taste, and, to show that they appreciated the production more than we did, crammed quantities of it into their mouths.

"Come, Mr McRitchie, for the advancement of science you must eat some!" exclaimed Jerry, handing him a big fungus.

This was a favourite expression of the doctor's; nor, to do him justice, was he slack to put his principles into practice. I have since often remarked in England the roots of beech trees completely surrounded with masses of fungi not unlike them in appearance. The doctor ate enough to redeem our character with the savages, and then we proceeded in the same amicable way as before, till we reached their village. It consisted of ten wigwams, some of considerable size, capable of holding twelve or more people. They were neatly thatched with straw, and their doorways had a piece of carved wood, so as to form an arch overhead. Several little, long-backed, sharp-eyed, hairy terriers came barking out and snapping at our heels, and wore very annoying till they were called off by their masters. In and about the huts were a number of women and children, the former far from unpleasant in their looks, though as dirty as the men. Indeed, from their appearance, we had reason to doubt whether any of the tribe had ever washed in their lives. The women had a modest, retiring look; and the children seemed in no way frightened when they saw us. Cousin Silas had a happy knack of making friends with savages, and especially with their children. His secret, I found, was great gentleness. While Mr McRitchie, Jerry, and I sat down on a log facing the huts, he advanced slowly towards the nearest group of children with some bracelets and lockets, which he now first produced, singing and dancing at the same time, so as to attract their attention. They stared at him with open eyes, but showed no inclination to run away till he got near enough to slip the string of a locket over the neck of the tallest child—a little girl—and a bracelet over the arm of another; and then, taking their hands, he began slowly to move round and round in a circle, beckoning to the rest of the children to join hands. This they readily did, and then two or three of the men—their fathers probably—joined the circle, and we got up and united our hands to those of the savages, and then several of the women came; and there we were— Mr Brand, and the doctor, and Jerry, and I, and the savages—men, women, and children—all singing, and dancing, and jumping, and laughing like mad, till we were fain to stop for want of strength to go on. To show their satisfaction, the savages gave us all round some over-affectionate hugs, which, besides nearly squeezing the breath out of our bodies, were unpleasant on account of the very dirty condition of the huggers. We would not tell them that we did not like it, so we had to submit to the ceremony as often as they thought fit to perform it, and to put the best face we could on the matter. The dance over, they invited us into a wigwam. It was ten feet in diameter, with a fire on the ground in the centre. Round it were heaps of dry grass, on which apparently they slept; while bunches of grass were hung to the roof, probably to dry. The smoke found its way out of the doorway, and through a small aperture, where the poles at the apex joined. There we all sat round the fire, squatting on our heels, and talking away as fast as our tongues could move, as if we were keeping up a very interesting conversation. The smoke and heat, not to mention the want of cleanliness in our hosts, made us very glad to get out again into the fresh air. Besides the fungi I have spoken of, the Fuegians live chiefly on fish and the shell-fish they gather on the rocks, though they eat birds and grubs of all sorts—and, I fancy, nothing comes amiss to them. We observed that a platform of clay was placed in each canoe, on which to place a fire. There was also a sort of well at the bottom of the canoe, and out of it a man was constantly employed in bailing the water, which leaked in through the seams. The men we met were of good size, and robust; but their legs were thin and weak, owing to their sitting so much in their canoes and walking so little. When by degrees we produced our gifts, and distributed them among the party—men, women, and children—their pleasure knew no bounds. They danced, and laughed, and shouted into our ears louder than ever; so that we thought it would be as well to be off while they remained in such excellent humour. They were much astonished at seeing the doctor pull out his note-book and write in it. The doctor, to indulge them, made a few clear strokes; and a young man, who had attached himself to Jerry and me, imitated them in a wonderful way, considering his rough and uncouth hand. We had heard them making a number of strange sounds, and at last we discovered that they were imitating our words.

"Good-bye," said Jerry, as we got up to go away.

"Good-bye," replied our young friend as clearly as possible, seeming fully to comprehend the meaning of the words.

"You speak capital English," said Jerry, laughing.

"Capital English," repeated the savage, shouting with a laughter which was quite catching, as if he had said something very clever.

Then, having gone through another process of hugging, we proceeded to the boat, accompanied by our new friends. Having refitted the topmast, we waited till the gale had blown itself out; and once more putting to sea, we had a very quick passage round Cape Horn, now no longer clothed in storms, to Valparaiso, the sea-port of Santiago, the capital of Chili.



CHAPTER EIGHT.

ADVENTURES IN CHILI.

One morning, when it was my watch on deck, soon after dawn the cheery sound was heard of "Land on the starboard-bow!" I looked out; and as daylight increased, there appeared, as if rising out of the ocean in their desolate grandeur, capped with snow and towering high above the clouds, the lofty summits of a range of mountains trending away north and south far as the eye could reach. They were the giant Cordilleras. On we sailed with a fresh breeze. The sun ascended with stately pace from behind them, and then a mist arose and shrouded their base. Hour after hour we ran on, and yet we seemed not to have got nearer; till once more the mists lifted, and wild, rocky, and barren heights sloped upwards before us from the ocean. Full sixty miles were gone over from the time those snowy peaks were first seen till we reached Valparaiso, far away down at their base. We must have been a hundred and twenty miles off them at sunrise.

Coming so suddenly from the wild regions of Tierra del Fuego and the unattractive Falklands, Valparaiso appeared to us a very beautiful place. It is very irregularly built—at the bottoms of valleys, on the tops of hills, and on their steep and sometimes rugged sides, rising directly out of the blue ocean, with a succession of range after range of lofty mountains behind it the Cordilleras towering in the background beyond all. Gerard and I were very eager to get on shore; so was old Surley. He wagged his tail, and ran to the ship's side and barked, and looked up in our faces and looked at the land, as much as to say, "How I should like to have a scamper along the beach there!"

"Yes, you may all three go, if Mr McRitchie will take care of you," said the captain, laughing. Fleming got leave to accompany us, as he had been unwell for some weeks, and the captain thought a trip on shore would do him good. We found that there would be time to get right up among the mountains, where we hoped to find some good sport, our great ambition being to kill a guanaco—the name given to the llama in its wild state. A number of boatmen good-naturedly helped us to land on the beach, with our guns and carpet-bags. It was market-day; the market was full of vegetables and other provisions, and the place bore a very cheerful aspect. We heard that, in spite of the want of level ground, the town has very rapidly improved in the last few years. The country generally, since order has been established, has become prosperous. Everybody praises the climate, and perhaps there is not a finer in the world; for, although hot in summer, the air is dry and pure, and tempered by the sea-breeze, which regularly sets in every forenoon. In the harbour were two or three old hulks, the remains of the fleet commanded by Lord Dundonald, when he performed one of his most gallant exploits—the cutting out of the Esmeralda frigate, belonging to the Spaniards, from the port of Callao. Fleming was with him, and told me all about it.

"What a lucky adventure!" I remarked.

"No, Mr Harry, it wasn't luck, it was prudence and forethought which gained the day with him then at all times. There never was a more prudent, and never a braver man. He feared nothing, and took every precaution to insure success. We were three days getting ready. We were all dressed in white, with a blue mark on the left arm—160 blue-jackets and 80 marines—and armed with cutlass and pistols—all picked men. Every man knew exactly what he had to do—some to attack one part of the ship, some another; others to go aloft and loose pails, some to the main, and others to the foretop. The admiral sent all the ships of the squadron out of the bay, except his own flag-ship. At midnight we were told off into fourteen boats. A line of booms had been placed across the mouth of the inner harbour, with only a narrow entrance. Just then the admiral's boat, which led, ran foul of a Spanish guard-boat; but he whispered to the crew, that if they gave any alarm he would kill every one of them; so they held their tongues, and we were quickly alongside the Esmeralda. The Spaniards were asleep, and before they had time to seize their arms, we were upon them, the frigate's cables were cut, and we were running out of the harbour. Had the admiral's directions been followed in all points, we should have cut out every craft in the harbour, and a rich treasure-ship to boot; but he had traitors serving under him, and all was not done which ought to have been done." Fleming told me also how Lord Dundonald took the strong forts of Valdivia, to the south of Chili, by storm, with his single ship's company; but I must not now repeat the story.

We engaged two caleches, rattle-trap vehicles, like gigs with hoods, to carry us to Santiago, the capital of Chili. One horse was in the shafts; another on the left side was ridden by a postilion on a high-peaked saddle, with a long knife at the saddle-bow; he being dressed with a straw hat over a silk handkerchief tied round his head and the ends hanging down behind, a short jacket, coarse pantaloons, high boots, huge spurs, and a poncho hanging over one shoulder. Jerry and Mr McRitchie went together, Fleming accompanied me, and we had old Surley, who sat up between our legs, looking sagaciously out before him. Away we rattled. The road was much better than we had expected to find it in a place so far away from England as this seemed. My idea was, that once round Cape Horn, we should not see anything but painted savages or long-tailed Chinese; and I was quite surprised to find good roads and carriages in Chili. We slept two nights on the road; admired Santiago, which is full of laughing gas, the air is so fine; it stands 1700 feet above the level of the sea. Then we started off on horseback towards the Cordilleras, to a spot called the Snow Bank, whence Santiago is regularly supplied with snow all the year round. At the capital we fell in with an English sailor, Tom Carver by name, who had served with Fleming under Lord Cochrane, and having married a Chilian wife, had settled in the country. He came as our interpreter, for without him a guide we procured would have been of very little service. Leaving our horses at a small rancho, or farm-house, we set off with our guns, Fleming and the guide carrying most of the provisions, though we each of us had a share. The scenery was wild and grand in the extreme, consisting of the snow-capped peaks of the Andes, of rugged heights, and of dark glens and gorges, with precipices which went sheer down many hundred feet below us. We had not gone far before we came to a suspension bridge made of hides, cut into strips and twisted together, thrown across a fearful gorge. Bundles of sticks placed on the ropes form the road. It was full of holes, and as I looked through, far down into the torrent foaming below, I could not help feeling how very disagreeable it would be to slip through. Surley followed at my heels, and even he did not like it. We now reached a wide valley, on the sides of which, far up on the mountains, we descried a number of animals, which Jerry and I concluded, without doubt, were the much-desired guanacoes. Mr McRitchie, with Simmons, the sailor, and the guide, were ahead; Fleming was with us; so we agreed, as we could not fail of being seen by our companions, we would climb the mountain in chase of the game. Up, up we climbed, old Surley after us. He seemed to think it very good fun; but Fleming, not accustomed to such exercise, was soon blown.

"Come along, Fleming," cried Jerry; "we shall soon be up to the beasts; don't give in, man."

"No, Mr Gerard, you go on, and leave me to follow you slowly," answered Fleming. "If I stop, you'll easily find me again."

We, of course, were ready enough to follow this advice; so Jerry, Surley, and I, pushed on up the mountain as fast as we could climb towards the nearest herd of guanacoes. They were of a light-brown colour, of about the size of a stag. I should describe the animals we saw as having small heads, with large and brilliant eyes, thick lips, and ears long and movable. The neck was very long, and kept perfectly upright, while the haunches were slightly elevated; so that they looked somewhat like little camels—the purpose of which, indeed, they serve when domesticated. We could see several herds in different parts on the side of the mountain. There was one low down near the path in the direction the doctor and his companions had taken. They were feeding quietly, when one looked up, then another, and away the whole herd scampered at a tremendous rate up the mountain. We thought that the sight of the doctor's party had put them to flight; and it showed us that we must be cautious in approaching the herd we had marked. Old Surley was very eager to be after them, and we had great difficulty in keeping him back.

The air was keen and at the same time hot. There was not a cloud in the intense blue sky, and the rays of the sun came down with great force, and blistered our skin and peeled our noses till we were afraid of touching them; but we did not think much about that trifle while the guanacoes were in sight. Concealing ourselves as much as possible behind rocks and bushes, and here and there an evergreen quillay-tree, we got nearer and nearer to them. Sometimes we got behind clumps of the great chandelier-like cactus, whose sturdy green twisted stems afforded us capital shelter.

"It is lucky we are not very big, or we should not be able to hide ourselves so well," observed Jerry as we crept on. The valley lay far below us, with steep precipices and a brawling torrent, with rocks and shrubs scattered about; and high above us wild jagged peaks and snow-covered mountain-tops. The stillness of the air was most extraordinary. Not a sound reached our ears. Never have I been in a wilder or more magnificent scene. I do not know what our four-footed companion thought of it, but he certainly enjoyed the idea of catching a guanaco—so did we, indeed, more than anything else. We had got within five hundred yards of the nearest without being discovered. Hitherto we had gone on very cautiously. Our eagerness overcame our discretion. We left cover and ran on exposing ourselves to view.

"Stop, stop, Harry!" sang out Jerry. "We are near enough to fire; stop and let us recover our wind." The advice was good, and I was about to follow it, when one of the guanacoes turned his head and saw us. Before we could bring our rifles to our shoulders, they were off like the wind. Jerry was going to fire after them but I stopped him, pointing to another herd a short distance further off, along the side of the mountain.

"You'll frighten them too if you do," I observed. "Let us try to get up to them more cautiously." One great difficulty was to keep Surley back, or he would have followed the herd till he had caught one of them, or broken his neck over a precipice. Consoling ourselves for our disappointment with the hopes of getting near enough up to the next herd to fire before being seen, we scrambled on as before. Now and then we glanced behind us to mark the spot where we had left Fleming, while we kept an eye in the direction Mr McRitchie had taken; and on that broad exposed mountain-side, we did not think it possible that we could miss each other. We climbed on, therefore, without any misgivings as to how we should find our way back again. I fastened my handkerchief through Surley's collar to keep him back. He was thus able also sometimes to help me up a steep place or a rock quicker than I could have got by myself. Jerry followed close behind me. The distance was, we found, greater than we expected to the next herd. We were, fortunately, to leeward of them, and not one of them noticed our approach. We halted behind a thick cactus. There was a rock some three hundred yards further off, and within a good shot of the herd.

"Now, Jerry, you mark the fellow to the left; I'll take the one to the right," said I, almost trembling in my eagerness. "Don't let us fire till we get up to the rock; then rest a moment, and it will be hard if we don't hit one of them. If we miss, we'll see what Surley can do for us." Jerry nodded his agreement to this proposal, and crouching down, we crept on till we reached the rock. For an instant we waited to recover breath, then we lifted up our rifles and rested them on a ledge of the rock. It would be impossible to have got a better aim. Crack— crack—we both fired. Off scampered the herd up the mountain.

"We've missed! we've missed!" we cried. "Oh, bothera—No, no! there's one fellow staggering. The one I fired at," I exclaimed. "Hurrah!"

"There's another! See, see!—he's over—no! he's up again, and away with the rest," sung out Jerry. "Let Surley after him, Harry. He'll bring him down. Hurrah, hurrah, what luck!"

With such like exclamations we darted from behind our cover, and ran as fast as our legs could carry us up to the guanaco I had hit; while Surley, hounded on by us, went off in hot chase after the animal Jerry had wounded. We were soon up to the guanaco I had hit. Poor beast! he staggered on, and then over he went on his side. He looked up at us with his mild eyes, as much as to say, "Oh, you cruel white men, who come from far-off across the seas, you have well-nigh destroyed the original people of the country, and now you would wage war against us, its harmless four-footed inhabitants." He tried to spit at us, but his strength failed him, and in an instant more he was dead. As soon as we saw this, off we went after Surley. He had singled a guanaco out of the herd, and marks of blood on the grass showed that it had been wounded. Old Surley was among them. Then one beast was seen to drop astern. Slower and slower he went, kicking out all the time at the dog, who ran leaping up to try and catch hold of his neck. He got a kick, which sent him rolling over, but he was up again.

"Hurrah!" cried Jerry. "He has him now, though. Remember, Harry, that's the beast I shot."

On we ran and clambered to get up with Old Surley and the guanaco, which was still struggling to get away. He made several desperate springs forward, but he struck out with his heels and spat in vain, for the stanch dog was not to be shaken off. He was rapidly getting weaker—he struggled less violently—at last over he came, and we saw there was no chance of his escaping. We stopped, and, like good sportsmen, loaded our rifles in case they might be required. By the time we got up the guanaco was dead, and Old Surley was standing over him, looking wonderfully proud of his victory. What was to be done with the game now that we had got it? was the question. We could not carry it away, for each animal was fully four feet high, and eight or nine long. We looked about for marks by which we should know the spot where the last killed lay. We thought that we had found some that we could not mistake, but, still more certainly to recognise it, we piled up all the stones and bushes we could collect on a rock, till we had made a considerable heap, which we thought would be conspicuous at a distance. We then began to consider that it was time to look about for our companions. We could nowhere make them out, but we had no doubt as to easily finding the spot where we had left Fleming. First, however, we had to go and mark the place more distinctly where we had left my guanaco. It took us as long to descend the mountain as to climb it; for we often came to steep places which we had to make a circuit to avoid. We reached the edge of a small precipice, where we had a tolerably clear view of the hill-side below us, and of the valley beyond. In ascending, we had passed on one side of the rock. We looked about to discover the spot where we had left the guanaco. There it lay; but not a hundred yards from it we saw another animal approaching it by stealthy steps. We watched it narrowly.

"It must be a big cat!" cried Jerry.

"No, no; it is a puma—the South American lion," I sang out. "Oh, if we can but get a shot at him it will be fine!"

He was so intent on the prospect of a feast off the dead guanaco that he did not see us. He crawled up near it, and then sprang on the carcass. We did not like to have our game destroyed, so we could not help shouting out, "Get off from that, you beast!" Our voices startled the puma, and looking round and seeing us, and Surley approaching with an angry growl, he trotted off down the mountain. We agreed that he was probably an old fellow, and that, having lost his activity, he could not catch the live animals. We both fired, but we were not near enough, and missed him. Away he bounded down the mountain without once stopping to look behind him.

"I vote we take some slices out of our friend here," said Jerry. His suggestions were generally very practical. "I don't see why we should run the risk of losing our dinner altogether. The chances are that another of these pumas finds him out and leaves us but poor pickings." I agreed to the wisdom of the suggestion, and so we supplied ourselves with enough meat for all the party. We then raised a mark near our guanaco as we had done before.

"That will do famously," said Jerry, finishing the heap with a long piece of cactus. "Now, let us go and look for Fleming. The doctor and guides will be back soon. I'm getting very hungry, I know, and if they don't come I vote we make an attack on the prog baskets without them."

"Let us find Fleming and the baskets first," I answered; for my mind began to misgive me about finding him as easily as we had expected. The chase after the guanacoes had led us a long way, and I found it very difficult to calculate distances or the size of objects in that bright atmosphere, where the proportions of all surrounding objects were so vast. Still I did not express my fears to Jerry. We kept our eyes about us, on the chance of falling in with another puma; for we agreed that it would be much better to be able to talk of having killed a lion than even two harmless llamas. On we went for a long time, scrambling over the crags, and precipices, and rough ground.

"Where can Fleming have got to?" exclaimed Jerry at last; "I am certain that we are up to the spot where we left him." I thought so likewise. We shouted at the top of our voices, but the puny sounds seemed lost in the vast solitudes which encompassed us. "I think it must have been further on," said I, after I had taken another survey of the country. So on we rushed, keeping our eyes about us on every side.

We had gone on some way further, when Jerry laid his hand on my arm. "What is that, Harry?" he exclaimed. "It is the puma! See the rascal how stealthily he creeps along! He's after some mischief, depend on it. I hope he won't go back and eat up our guanacoes."

"We must take care that he does not do that," said I. "We'll stop his career. Is your rifle ready. We'll creep after him as stealthily as he is going along. He is so busy that he does not see us, and the chances are that we get near enough to knock him over."

"Come along then," exclaimed Jerry; and, imitating the puma's cautious mode of proceeding, we rapidly gained on him. We had got up almost close enough to fire when Jerry whispered, "O Harry, what is that? It's Fleming, dear! dear!"

Just below where the puma was crouching down ready to make his fatal spring, lay the form of the old seaman; but whether he was dead, or asleep, or fainting, we could not tell. There was not a moment to be lost. In another instant the savage brute would have fixed his claws in his throat. We rushed on—so did old Surley. The puma had actually begun his spring when we fired. Both our bullets took effect, but still he leaped forward. He fell close to Fleming. Our shipmate sprang up on his knees, but it was only to receive the claws of the brute on his chest. The blow knocked him over. We were running on and shouting all the time, to distract the attention of the puma.

"He is killed! he is killed!" cried Jerry. "No." In an instant, with a clasp-knife in his hand, Fleming was up again and plunging away at the throat of the brute. He rose to his knees. He gave stab after stab, and prevented the puma from fixing its jaws on his own throat, which seemed the aim of the enraged animal. The brave Surley was at his flanks tearing and biting at them with all his might.

"Hold on, Fleming," we shouted; "we will be up to you directly."

"Fire! fire!" cried Fleming; "I can't keep the brute back much longer."

At length Surley's attack seemed to produce more effect on the puma. For a moment he turned round to try to repel him. Fleming seized the opportunity, and, taking better aim than he had hitherto been able to do, plunged his knife right up to the hilt in the animal's breast, and then sprang back out of his way. We came up at the same moment, barely in time to save Surley from some severe handling, for the puma had turned all his fury on him. We stopped and loaded, and then running on got close up to the beast, to run no risk of hitting the dog, and fired. Over he rolled, giving a few spasmodic clutches with his claws, and with a snarl expired.

"You've saved my life anyhow, young gentlemen," said Fleming. "When I felt the brute's claws on my breast, before I saw you and honest Surley there, I thought it was all over with me."

Surley was standing over the dead body of the puma, and he seemed to think that he had had the chief hand in killing him. We were very proud of the trophy; and when we found that Fleming was scarcely injured, though his clothes were somewhat torn, we were very glad that the adventure had occurred. Fleming told us that when we did not return he had set off to look after us; but at last, overcome again with the heat of the sun, he had sat down and dropped asleep. It was now getting late in the day, so after we had marked the place where the dead puma lay, we agreed that we would return to the bottom of the valley and try and find our companions. That we might enjoy a whole day in the mountains, it had been arranged that we should bivouac in the valley, and not commence our return till the following morning. We looked about for the doctor and guides, but they were nowhere to be seen. We fired off our rifles, but no one answered in return. We began to be anxious. Could they have been stopped by robbers? or could any Indians have attacked them? Such things had occurred before now, we were told. Sometimes bands of the fierce Araucanian Indians had been known to make incursions into the province from the south, and to attack farm-houses and even villages among the mountains. Robbers, too, in large bands once frequented the country, and laid contributions on all the peaceable inhabitants. Still, since the government has been settled and order established, such occurrences were no longer heard of. We therefore resolved that it would be unwise to make ourselves unhappy; so, after having partaken of some of the articles of Fleming's basket to stay our appetites, we set to work to prepare for our encampment for the night. We fixed on a spot under a high rock, which would shelter us from the prevailing wind; and we then looked about for fuel with which we could light a fire. We found a plant in great abundance, but we could not tell whether, it would burn or not. "Try, at all events," said Fleming. We made a heap, and put some paper and matches under it. It burned admirably, exuding a resinous smell; and we afterwards found that it was called the Alpinia umbellifera. After we had collected enough fuel for the night, we sat ourselves down before the fire wrapped up in our cloaks, which Fleming had been carrying for us. When enough ashes had been made, we produced our meat and toasted some slices at the end of our ramrods.

"I say, Harry, does not this remind you of the night we spent at the Falkland Islands?" said Jerry. "I like this bivouacking life amazingly." I agreed with him that it was very good fun in fine weather, but that with cold and snow, or rain, I thought we should very likely change our tune.

"That you would, young gentlemen," observed Fleming. "Remember that you've only seen the bright side of life as yet. There's a dark side as well, and you should be prepared for it when it comes, otherwise you won't be fit to meet it like men. Don't go on fancying that the sun is always to shine on you, and that you are always to be warm and comfortable, and to have plenty of money in your pockets, and no troubles and sorrows, and pains and sicknesses. You'll have your share, and it is better that you should depend on it, not to make you value this world too much."

"I say, Fleming, don't preach—there's a good fellow!" exclaimed Jerry. "I want just now to enjoy my slice of guanaco. I know what you say is very true, and I'll remember and think about it by-and-by."

Fleming might have made further remarks on the subject, had not a faint shout, as if from a distance, reached our ears. We listened. Could it be from Indians or robbers? Jerry put his hand to the top of his head. "Oh, my scalp!" said he; "it feels very uncomfortable already." Again the shout reached us. We shouted in return. We had little doubt that it was raised by the doctor and his companions. Soon they emerged out of the darkness laden with all sorts of specimens of natural history. We crowed over them, however, for they had not killed either a guanaco or a puma. They could not doubt our assertions, as they had proof in the slices of the former which we cooked for them. Fleming and Old Surley, too, showed the marks of their encounter with the puma; and we got great credit for having killed him. We were a very merry party as we drew round the fire recounting our adventures; and Surley sat up looking as wise as any of us, and if he could but have put his words together, he would have told as good a story as any of us. At all events, he dogfully played his part at the feast, and ate up with evident relish all the scraps of guanaco flesh which we gave him. Mr McRitchie was as satisfied as we were with the result of his day's excursion; and as we had an abundant supply of everything to make the inner man comfortable, and good cloaks to keep the outer warm, we were all very happy. Our guide talked a good deal, though no one but Tom Carver understood a word he said. Tom and Fleming, however, spun the longest yarns, all about Lord Cochrane and all the wonders he had done, and how from his daring and bravery he made the people of the country believe that he was in league with the Evil One, if he was not rather the Evil One himself. They gave him the name of the Diabo.

"No one ever deserved it less," exclaimed Fleming. "The devil, to my mind, is cunning and cowardly, and a fool into the bargain. Resist him, and he'll run away. Act a straightforward, honest part, and he can never get round you. Lord Cochrane, you see, mates, was as true and honest as steel, as brave as his sword, and so wise, that he never undertook to do anything when he didn't see the way clear before him that would lead to success." Tom agreed also in heartily praising their old chief, though they were not very complimentary to the Spaniards or to the people of Chili, whom he had come to assist.

"I say, Tom, do you mind when we were going away from Valparaiso to attack Callao, and you and I were serving aboard the O'Higgins, how that lieutenant brought the admiral's little son on board?" said Fleming, for the purpose, I suspect, of drawing his friend out.

"Ay, that I do," answered Tom Carver. "You see the flag-lieutenant had gone on shore for some of the admiral's traps, when he fell in with the little chap, who wasn't more than five or six years old. 'I want to go with father,' says he. 'I must go with father aboard the big ship there. I will go.' At first the lieutenant said he couldn't take him; but the little fellow cried out so, that he couldn't find it in his heart to refuse him; so he lifted him up on his shoulders and carried him away to the boat. The child shouted and crowed with pleasure, waving his little hat above his head, just like a sucking hero as he was. When the people saw it, they seemed as if they would grow mad with delight, and followed him in crowds, cheering and crying out, 'Viva la Patria' at the top of their voices. I was one of the boat's crew, and certainly there was something in it somehow which took our fancy mightily. Off we pulled aboard the flag-ship, before Lady Cochrane found out what had become of the child, and I daresay she was in a great taking. Well, we only got aboard just as the ship was under weigh, and he couldn't be sent on shore again. There was nothing to be done but to take him with us. We weren't sorry to have him, for, you see, next to a monkey, there's nothing does a ship's company more good than having a little child to look after. The small chap had nothing but the clothes he was dressed in. 'What's to be done with him?' says the admiral. 'Why, bless ye, my lord, he'll have fifty nurses, every one as good as the she-maids as has to look after him ashore,' answered Ben Brown, the admiral's coxswain; 'and as for clothing, the ship's tailor will rig him out in no time.' To my mind, the admiral rather liked having the little fellow with him. Fearless himself, he couldn't even feel fear for one of those he loved best on earth. Young master very soon made himself at home among us, and in a couple of days the ship's tailor had as complete a midshipman's uniform made for him as you'd wish to see.

"We were bound, do you see, to Callao, where the admiral discovered that a large Spanish ship was about to sail for Europe, with great treasure aboard. Besides her, there was a Spanish squadron of considerable force lying in the harbour, under the protection of the guns of the forts. The admiral was up to all sorts of dodges, so he hoisted American colours, and, as two United States' ships of war were expected with another ship, stood in. A fog, however came on, and the Lantaro, one of our squadron, parting company, his plan was defeated. However, we fell in with a Spanish gunboat in the fog, and took her. Fogs and light winds baffled us for some time; but the admiral was not a man to be turned aside from what he had intended, so at last we got in before the forts, and with springs on our cables began blazing away at them and the fleet, of which there were altogether some fourteen vessels. Well, I was telling you of the admiral's little son. Of course his father was very anxious about him, for it was no child's work we were about, so he locked him up as he fancied safe in his after-cabin. As soon, however, as the firing began, the youngster thought he should like to see some of the fun; so what does he do, but work his way out through the quarter-gallery window, and find his way up on deck. 'Go down below, sir, this moment,' says the admiral when he sees him. 'You'll be having your head shot off if you stay here.' The shot was flying about us pretty thick by that time, let me tell you. 'No, no, daddy,' says he. 'Let me stay here. You stay, and de oder midshipmens stay; why shouldn't I?' He couldn't speak quite plain yet, do you see. 'Take him below out of harm's way, one of you,' says the admiral, turning to me. You see he had plenty to do watching the enemy and issuing orders, and had not time to look after the boy. So as the admiral ordered, I seized up the young gentleman, and was going to carry him off below, when he began to kick up such a hubbub, and to kick, and scratch, and bite, it was as hard work to hold him as it would have been to gripe a rattlesnake. 'Put me down, I say—put me down,' he sung out. 'I'll not go below. I want to stay on deck and fight the enemy.' Well, I saw that there was no use in taking him below, because, as no one could be spared to look after him, he would have been soon up again; besides, to my mind, a shot finds its way into one part of a ship as well as another. So I put him down again, and there was his little lordship as busy as any powder-monkey, handing up the powder to the gunners. Well, as I was saying, the shot was falling pretty thick about our ears, when a round shot takes off the head of a marine standing close to the small boy, scattering the brains and blood of the poor fellow right over the small chap, almost blinding him. The admiral was looking that way. His tall figure bent forwards. I thought he would have fallen from the agony of his mind. He believed his child was killed. In an instant, however, the little hero recovered himself, and dashing the blood from his face, ran up to his lordship. 'Don't be afraid, papa,' says he; 'I'm not hurt—the shot did not strike me. Tom says the ball isn't cast that can kill mamma's boy.' That was true enough, for he'd heard some of us say, what we believed, that he couldn't come to harm any more than his father could. The admiral's face brightened again, when he saw that no harm had happened to the boy. I suppose after this he thought as we did, for he let him stay on deck during the whole action; and a pretty sharp one it was, when I tell you we had two hundred guns firing away at us for a couple of hours. If it hadn't been for the fog, we shouldn't have had a stick standing at the end of it. After this we had several brushes with the enemy.

"At last the admiral considered that it would be a great thing to take Valdivia, a strongly-fortified place on the south of Chili, still held by the Spaniards. We had some Chilian troops on board, and very brave fellows they were, under a French officer. Our own officers were worth very little, and the admiral had to look after everything himself. One night we were off the island of Quiriquina, and he had turned in to take a little rest, leaving the deck in charge of one of the lieutenants. The lieutenant thought he should like a snooze, so he turned in and left a midshipman in charge of the ship. The midshipman went to sleep, and when he awoke he found the ship all aback. In trying to box her off he ran her on shore, on the sharp edge of a rock, where, if there had been any swell, she would have beaten her bottom in. Many of the people wanted to abandon the ship; but the admiral was not a man to allow such a thing while there was a hope of getting her off; and telling them that they would be all murdered by the savages on the coast if they landed, he set all hands to work at the pumps. When they came to be examined, they were all out of repair; and as the carpenter could make no hand at mending them, what does the admiral do but whip off his coat and set to work with his own hands. Didn't we feel that he was a man we'd follow through thick and thin, though we knew that pretty well before then. At last, what with pumping and bailing, we found that the water did not gain on us, so the stream anchor was got, and heaving on it with a will, we once more set the old ship afloat. 'Never mind, my lads,' says the admiral; 'if we can but make her swim as far as Valdivia, we shall do very well without a ship for a time.' By that we knew he intended to take and occupy the place. The admiral wanted to take the Spaniards by surprise, so he shifted his flag aboard the Intrepedo brig-of-war, taking with him the Montezuma, a man-of-war schooner, and, in spite of a high sea, all the troops were put on board the two vessels. You should just see what sort of a place Valdivia is, with strong forts on both sides of a channel not three-quarters of a mile wide. There is only one small landing-place, called the Aquada del Ingles, with a fort protecting it. Towards that we stood, for the surf sets so heavily on the shore, that a boat attempting to land anywhere else would be knocked to pieces. We had a gallant English officer in command of the troops, Major Miller. I never saw such a fire-eater. His body was almost riddled with shot, but he never seemed to mind; nothing sickened him of fighting; and as soon as he got well he was as ready for work as ever. So, as I was saying, the brig and schooner ran in and anchored close to Fort Ingles, keeping the boats on the other side of the vessels, out of sight. The admiral hailed the fort, and said we had lost our boats coming round Cape Horn, and begged they would send one; but just then one of ours drifted astern, and the Spaniards, smelling a rat, opened fire on us. Instantly the admiral ordered the troops to land, and a launch, with the gallant Major Miller, and some forty-four marines, shoved off, and under a heavy shower of musket-balls, pushed for the shore. His coxswain was wounded, and he received a shot through his hat. On we shoved (for I was with him), and leaping on shore with loud cheers, we drove the enemy before us at the point of the bayonet. I forgot to tell you that when the O'Higgins got on shore, we had nearly all our powder spoiled, so that he had to depend entirely on the bayonet. There's no better weapon to be used when Spaniards are concerned. They can't stand it. Other boats followed, and in less than a hour we had 300 troops landed. We waited till it was dark to begin the attack. There was a gallant young ensign, Mr Vidal. While the main body advanced in front, firing off their muskets, and shouting to show the Spaniards that we were going to give them a taste of the bayonet, he got round to the rear of the forts, and opening his fire, the enemy got frightened, and took to their heels, while we took the forts—which was what we had come to take. At the same time 300 more Spaniards, who were marching into Fort Ingles, were seized with a panic, and all fled together. The brave Chilians bayoneted them by dozens; and when the gates of the other forts were opened to receive the fugitives, they entered at the same time, and thus fort after fort was taken with very little loss to us, but a good deal to the enemy. Two days after, we attacked the forts on the other side of the water with the same success, and then took the town of Valdivia itself, which is some little way up the river. We found a large supply of ammunition in the place, and I know that I got a fair share of prize-money. That Major Miller I was telling you of was soon after this again desperately wounded in attempting to take another fort. When he had fallen, his faithful marines made a desperate charge, and brought him off. They were all Chilians, it must be remembered. One of them, named Roxas, was a very brave fellow. He was the first to land with the major, and had helped to carry him to the beach on their retreat. Two out of three were wounded, and when the major invited him to step into the boat, 'No, sir,' says he; 'I was the first to land, and I intend to be the last to leave the shore.' You see, young gentlemen, it is not only Englishmen can do gallant things, and I like when I have an opportunity to praise those with other blood in their veins.