This at once recalled Captain Billings from the past to the present.

"Have you got everything aboard the boats?" he sang out in his customary voice to Mr Macdougall, his tones as firm and clear as if he had not been a moment before almost on the point of crying. "Are all the provisions and water in?"

"Aye, aye, an' stoowed awa', too, Cap'en," answered the mate, to whom had been entrusted the execution of all the necessary details. "A very thin's aboord, and naething forgot, I reecken."

"Then it's time we were aboard, too," said the skipper. "Boatswain, muster the hands!"

Jorrocks didn't have to tap on the deck with a marlinspike now to call them, in the way he used to summon the watch below to reef topsails in the stormy weather we had off Madeira and elsewhere; for the men were all standing round, ready to start over the side as soon as the skipper gave the word of command to go.

Captain Billings then called over the list of the crew from the muster roll, which he held in his hand along with the rest of the "ship's papers"—such as the Esmeralda's certificate of registry, the manifest of the cargo, and her clearance from the custom-house officers at Cardiff; when, all having answered to their names, with the exception of the two invalids, Mr Ohlsen, and Harmer, the seaman, both of whom were already in the long-boat, the skipper gave the word to pass down the gangway, apportioning seven hands in all to the jolly-boat, under charge of Mr Macdougall, and the remainder of our complement to the long-boat, under his own care.

Including the invalids, we were seven-and-twenty souls in all—now compelled to abandon our good ship, and trust to those two frail boats to take us to the distant coast of Tierra del Fuego, of which we were not yet even in sight; and it was with sad hearts that we went down the side of this poor Esmeralda for the last time, quitting what had been our floating home for the two months that had elapsed since we left England, for the perils we had encountered in her had only endeared her the more to us!

Captain Billings was the last to abandon the ship; lingering not merely until we had descended to the boats, seven in one and nineteen as yet only in the other without him, but waiting while we settled ourselves along the thwarts; when, turning round, he put his feet on the cleats of the side ladder and came down slowly, looking up still at the old vessel, as if loth to leave her in such an extremity.

The jolly-boat had been already veered astern on receiving her allotted number, the long-boat only waiting alongside for the skipper, with a man in the bows and another amidships, fending her off from the ship's side with a couple of boat-hooks, so that the little barque should not dash against the hull of the bigger one, now she was so loaded up—a collision would have insured destruction to all in her, the huge billows of the Southern Ocean rolling in at intervals, and raising her so high aloft as to overtop the ship sometimes, and again carrying her down right under the Esmeralda's counter, thus making her run the risk of being stove in every instant.

It was too perilous a proximity; so, as soon as Captain Billings had got down into the stern-sheets, he gave the order to shove off.

"Easy her away gently, men," he said, as he took up the tiller lines, watching with a critical eye the movements of the men amidships and in the bow, as they poled the boat along the side of the ship until it passed clear of her by the stern. "Be ready there with your oars, sharp!"

In another moment the boat was tossing about in the open sea, the height and force of the waves becoming all the more apparent now that we had lost the protection of the Esmeralda's lee. The flames just then, as if angry at our having escaped them, darted up the mizzen rigging, and presently enveloped the poop in their blaze, so that the whole ship was now one mass of fire fore and aft, blazing like a tar-barrel.

The skipper would have liked to have lain by and seen the last of the vessel, but there was too much sea on, and the wind seemed getting up again; so, knowing how treacherous the weather was in the vicinity of the Cape of Storms, he determined, for the safety of those under his charge, to make for the land as speedily as possible—an open boat not being the best craft in the world to be in, out on the ocean, when a gale is about!

As Captain Billings could see, the wind was blowing on shore, in the very direction for us to go; and, as the rollers were racing towards the same goal, the only way for us to avoid being swamped by them was to travel at a greater rate forwards than they did, or else we would broach-to in the troughs of the waves, when a boat is apt to get for the moment becalmed, from the intervening wall of water on either side stopping the current of air, and taking the breeze out of her sails.

The long-boat was fitted with a couple of masts, carrying a large mainsail and a mizzen, both of which the skipper now ordered to be set, the former close-reefed to half its size. A bit of a staysail was also hoisted forwards in place of the jib, which was too large for the wind that was on; and then, it was wonderful to see the way the long-boat began to go through the water when the sail was put on her! She fairly raced along, dragging astern the jolly-boat, which we had taken in tow, the little craft leaving a curly wave in front of her cutwater, higher than her bows, and looking as if it were on the point of pouring over on top of those in her.

It was now late in the afternoon of this, our sixty-third day out of port; and, as the sun sank to rest in the west, away in the east, according to our position in the boat, there was another illumination on the horizon.

It was that caused by the burning ship. But it did not last so long: the fire of coals and wood could not vie with that of the celestial orb.

We could still see the blazing hull, as we rose every now and then on the crest of the rollers; while, when we could not perceive it from the subsidence of the waves under the boat's keel, making us sink down, a pillar of smoke, floating in the air high above the Esmeralda in a long fan-like trail, and stretching out to where sky and sea met in the extreme distance, told us where she was without any fear of mistake.

Soon after we had quitted the vessel the mainmast, when half consumed, tumbled over the side; and, presently, the burning mizzen, which had been standing up for some time like a tall fiery pole, disappeared in a shower of sparks.

The end was not far off now.

As we rose on the send of the next sea, Captain Billings, by whose side I was sitting in the stern-sheets of the long-boat, grasped my arm.

"Look!" he said, half turning round and pointing to where the burning ship had last been seen.

She was gone!

The smoke still hung in the air in the distance, like a funeral pall; but the wind was now rapidly dispersing it to leeward, there being no further supply of the columns of cloud-like vapour that had originally composed it.

Soon, too, the smoke had completely disappeared, and the horizon was a blank.

"All's over!" cried the skipper, with a heavy sigh.

All was over, indeed; for, whatever fragments of the ill-fated Esmeralda the remorseless fire may have spared, were now, without doubt, making their way down to the bottom of that wild ocean on which we poor shipwrecked mariners were tossing in a couple of frail boats— uncertain whether we should ever reach land in safety, or be doomed to follow our vessel's bones down into the depths of the sea!

Night fell soon after this; but the long-boat still held her way, running before the wind, and steering a nor'-nor'-west course by compass. We had now been going in that direction some two hours or more, and the skipper calculated that we were some thirty miles off the Wollaston Islands, which we ought to fetch by daylight next morning.

Fortunately, it was a bright clear night, although there was no moon, only the stars twinkling aloft in the cloudless azure sky; and, thus, we were able to watch the waves so as to prevent them pooping us when two seas ran foul of each other, which they frequently did, racing against the wind, and eager, apparently, to outstrip it. Still, the most careful steering was necessary, and Jorrocks had to have out an oar astern, in order to aid the skipper's control of the tiller, when he put the helm up or down suddenly so as to get out of the wash of the breakers.

The jolly-boat, too, occasioned us much uneasiness; for when the tow- rope slackened at these moments of peril, she ran the chance of slewing round broadside on to the sea. However, thanks to the interposing aid of Providence, we got through the dangers of the night, and day dawned at last.

It was a terribly anxious watch, though, for all hands—especially for the skipper and Jorrocks, and the men told off to hold the sheets of the sails; for these latter couldn't be belayed, having to be hauled taut or let go at a moment's notice.

With the advent of day came renewed hope, in spite of our not being able yet to see land—nothing being in sight ahead or astern, to the right or the left, but the same eternal sea and sky, sky and sea, which the rising sun, although it lent a ray of radiance to the scene, only made infinitely more dreary and illimitable.

Towards noon, however, away on the port bow, the peak of a snow-topped mountain was perceived just above the horizon.

"Hurrah!" cried Captain Billings. "There's our old friend Cape Horn! Another couple of hours straight ahead, and we ought to rise those islands I was speaking of. Do you see the Cape?" he shouted out across the little intervening space of water to Mr Macdougall in the jolly- boat.

"Aye, aye—and it's a glad seeght!" replied the mate, to which statement all hands cheered. Some provisions, which, through the thoughtful precaution of the skipper and the assistance of Pat Doolan, had been cooked before being placed on board, were now served out around—the long-boat the while steadily progressing on her course, now hauled a bit more to the westwards of north.

About three o'clock in the afternoon another cheery hail broke the stillness that reigned amongst us; for we were all too anxious to talk, and those of the crew who were not attending to the sheets of the sails had composed themselves to sleep, under the thwarts amidships and on the gratings aft.

"Land, ho!"

The cry came from a man on the look-out in the bows; and the announcement was received with a ringing shout, for the heavens were beginning to get overcast, and the wind was rising, promising that, should we be compelled to remain afloat another night, we should not find it quite so pleasant as our experiences of the past one, in spite of what we then thought the dangerous character of the following waves; and, if it came on to blow in addition, the heavy running sea which we had then to contend with would be mere child's play in comparison with what we might expect would get up in an hour or two.

But, the nearness of the land led us to hope that we should not experience any further risk of being swamped. Long before sunset we approached it close enough to see where we were going.

The nearest shore was that of an island, with high mountain peaks, but of little apparent extent, looking, as we saw it, barely a mile long. Near this were three or four other islands, although further to the northwards; while on the extreme left, some miles to the westwards, was the high snow-white peak which the skipper had said was Cape Horn, standing on a little island of its own that stretched out into the sea to a more southerly point than any of the other islets composing the archipelago.

"Why, sir," said I to Captain Billings, "I always thought that Cape Horn was part of the mainland, jutting out from the end of Tierra del Fuego— that's what my school geography taught, at all events!"

"Oh, no," he replied. "It is on an island, sure enough, as all mariners know, although these chaps that write books for schools may not think it island enough to mention the fact. Where it stands is called Horn Island, and the next large one beyond it Wollaston Island; but I'm going to make for that little one ahead, as it is the nearest."

"And what is that called?" I asked.

"Herschel Island, after the great astronomer," answered the skipper. "I've been here before, my lad, and recognise the whole lot of them, and that is how I come to know about 'em."

"Are any people living there?" said I, presently, the boat nearing the island so quickly that we could see a line of white beach, with the waves breaking on it, lying below the chain of mountain ridges that ran across it "fore and aft," as a sailor would describe it.

"Only cannibals," replied the skipper, placidly.

"Cannibals on Herschel Island, and we going there!" I exclaimed, half astonished, half frightened.

"Aye, they are there or thereabouts; but, at all events, we're going to land on Herschel Island, as it's a case with us of any port in a storm! Look out there, forwards!" he called out a moment or two after to the men. "Be ready to down the mainsail when I give the word. Steady with the sheets. Now!"

And, with a grating noise, the boat's keel struck the shore, carried forwards on the top of a huge wave, whose backwash, however, dragged us back into the deep the next second, slewing the head of the boat round at the same time, so that she hung broadside on.

"Out oars, men—out oars for your life!" shouted the skipper, seeing the terrible danger that now threatened us in the very moment of safety; but, before the order could be executed, the long-boat was upset, and we were all tumbling about in the surf!



CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.

AN AUSTRAL AURORA.

A wild cry went up to Heaven as we struggled for dear life in the water, battling with the under-tow of the in-rolling waves, which tried to drag us down in their angry clutches; but first one and then another emerged dripping on the sands, even Mr Ohlsen having saved himself without help, although he had been snugly tucked up in his hammock a moment before, and was lying down in the stern-sheets when the boat capsized.

Poor Harmer, however, whose broken leg was only fresh set, and the bones not united, was unable to put out a hand on his own behalf, and seeing he had not gained the beach with the others, I looked eagerly about for him, knowing that in his crippled state it was almost impossible for him to have got ashore.

Just then, his head appeared some twenty feet out from the land, in the midst of the boiling surf, with his hands stretched out in mute entreaty to us, appealing for succour as he was being carried out rapidly to sea.

Who could refrain from venturing in again to rescue him?

Certainly not I; and, as I dashed in, Pat Doolan followed my example, the cook uttering a wild Irish yell that had the effect of animating several of the rest of the sailors to lend us a helping hand, although they had not the pluck to dash in too.

"Hooroo, boys!" he shouted. "Follow me leader, ye spalpeens, and let us say who'll raich the poor drowning chap first! Ould Oireland for iver!"

He reached Harmer almost as soon as I, and the two of us took hold of him together—the poor fellow, however, being already insensible, made no effort whatever to keep up and help himself, and was absolutely limp in our grasp.

We managed to swim back in with our burden on the top of a roller, well enough; but when we tried to secure our footing on the shore, the under- tow took us out again, although Pat Doolan flung himself face downwards on the sand, clutching it with one of his hands while he held the half- drowned man with the other in the same way as I did. Once, twice, we made the attempt; and yet, in spite of our desperate struggles, both of us putting forth all our strength, the backwash of the waves laughed at our resistance, floating us back again out into deep water. At our third try, however, and it would have been the last, for we were both exhausted by this time, the men on the beach—who had formed a line holding on to one another, Jorrocks being foremost and Captain Billings next, wading in up to their necks in the sea—managed to catch hold of us, when we were dragged out by sheer force; Pat and I, with Harmer between us, all lumped together in a confused mass, and the hands hauling us in with a "Yo, heave ho!" as if they were pulling at the topsail halliards or getting the main tack aboard!

My swim after Mr Macdougall was nothing to this, although I had then battled with the sea for over an hour, while now the Irishman and I had not been ten minutes over our fight with the remorseless waves; but it was a terrific contest whilst it lasted, and albeit we had both come off victorious, thanks to the timely assistance of our comrades, we were nearly worsted, and so utterly pumped out that another five minutes of it would have ended the matter very differently. As it was, I had to lie on the sands, whither Jorrocks had lifted me beyond the reach of the tide, for a considerable period before I could either move or speak, while Pat Doolan was in an equally sorry plight.

When I at last gained my voice, I stammered out a question—

"How's Harmer?" I asked, anxiously.

But Captain Billings, who was beside me, lifting up my head tenderly with his arm placed round me, shook his head sadly.

"Poor fellow," he said; "you did your best, but he must have been gone before you reached him. He's quite dead—you were too late to save him!"

I declare this news affected me more than all I had gone through; and, whether from weakness, or from the reaction after such violent exertion producing a feeling of hysteria, I cannot tell; all I know is, that I turned my face away from the kind-hearted skipper who was supporting me, and cried like a child—I, who thought myself then a man!

Meanwhile, as I found out when I had recovered from my emotion and was able to stand up and look about me, my shipmates had not been idle in trying to retrieve the effects of our unfortunate landing; for which the skipper upbraided his own carelessness, laying the blame on himself, and saying that he ought to have known better than to have tried to rush the boat in with such a ground swell on!

The tow-rope of the jolly-boat had been cast-off shortly before we approached the shore, Captain Billings hailing Mr Macdougall and telling him to bring her head to the sea, and lay off until we got ashore; so, there she was, riding in safety, about half a cable's length out, beyond reach of the surf, while we were tumbling about in it after the long-boat had upset us so unexpectedly without ceremony.

Mr Macdougall was about to pull in at once, on seeing the contretemps, but the skipper, the moment he fetched the shore, and before I had gone in after Harmer, had directed him still to keep off and get a line ready to heave in, as by that means those in the jolly- boat would not only be able to land in a better way than ourselves, but, also, some portion of the stores of our boat might be recovered, as well as the craft itself—the long-boat having only turned over, and still floating in the midst of the breakers, bobbing up and down bottom upwards.

This task was now being proceeded with by all hands.

Forming again a line, as when they had dragged Pat Doolan and myself out—the men holding each other's hands, for they had no rope as yet to tackle on to—several articles near in shore had been already picked up; and, now that I was all right again, the skipper at once set about getting the jolly-boat in, besides trying to secure the long-boat.

Each, amongst other necessary parts of his equipment, had been provided with a coil of strong half-inch line, in addition to their proper painters, and on Captain Billings singing out to the first mate, and telling him what to do, the jolly-boat with her six oars manned was backed in just beyond reach of the surf. The end of the line, which Mr Macdougall held ready with a sounding-lead attached to it to make it swing further, was then hove ashore.

It fell short, some ten feet out in the midst of the eddy caused by the backwash, but the leading hand of the long-boat's crew, after one or two dives in the surf, in which he got knocked down and rolled over, succeeded finally in grasping the sounding-lead.

Then, with a loud hurrah, the end of the line was hauled in towards us, communication being thus established with those in the jolly-boat. The stay the rope afforded steadied her in the water, so that she rode more easily, which made the next operation, that of getting hold of the overturned long-boat, more practicable, and not as likely to jeopardise her safety as would otherwise have been the case.

The coil of rope was fully a hundred feet long, and of sufficient length to pass twice between the jolly-boat ashore and back again, leaving a few spare yards over; so, first throwing over a grapnel to anchor her head out to the sea, the water being only some three fathoms deep where she was riding, and the men in her being now wanted for something else besides rowing to keep her from drifting in, the other end of the line was belayed, and the boat easied in with the utmost care, two of the hands still keeping to their oars, until she reached the wrecked boat.

Then Haxell, the carpenter, pluckily volunteered to jump over the side, and try, by diving underneath, to catch hold of the long-boat's painter or some of her headgear, all attempts to reach such by the aid of a boat-hook being impossible from the motion of the two boats in the restless water. After a bit, the taciturn but useful man obtained the object in view, dragging out from below the long-boat's stern the very tow-rope with which we had been previously pulling the jolly-boat along while sailing towards the land, before casting her off, and our subsequent upset.

This rope was now fastened to the shore-line with a double hitch, and our lot on the beach hauling in, we presently had the satisfaction of seeing the stern of our own craft working in towards us, the jolly-boat still remaining out beyond reach of the rollers, until the long-boat had grounded; when, seeing a proper opportunity, she too was got in safely— without, however, any previous upset, like ours, and indeed without her taking in any perceptible quantity of water so as to damage her cargo or give her crew a ducking, all of whom, with the exception of Haxell, who of course had sought a bath of his own accord, getting to land dry-shod, unlike us, who had been drenched from head to foot, and were now shivering with cold, the temperature of the air being below freezing point.

It was now high-water, as Captain Billings observed from the marks on the shore; so, as nothing more could then be done towards getting the long-boat further in and righting her, and the hands were pretty well tired out with their exertions, he called a rest as soon as the jolly- boat was hauled up well beyond reach of the waves, which still broke threateningly on the beach—impelled by the force of the wind, now blowing a stiff gale from the south-west, and covering the beach with breakers that sent showers of foam over us, even when we had moved many yards away.

"Spell O!" sang out the skipper. "Boatswain, pipe down the men to dinner."

We had to encroach on the jolly-boat's stores, the provisions being divided between the two boats although our craft, being the larger of the two, had of course carried the major portion. This could, however, only now be looked upon as lost; for the seawater must have spoilt everything eatable.

However, as the crew had gone through a good deal of hardship, the skipper did not attempt to ration them down to any smaller allowance on this our first evening on Herschel Island; and so, when a fire was built up, and some hot coffee brewed by Jorrocks, who usurped Pat Doolan's functions on this occasion, the Irishman being still too weak from his efforts to rescue poor Harmer to be of much use yet, we all had a hearty meal, feeling much the better thereby.

After this, the skipper told the men to lie down round the fire, which we found very grateful when the sun had set, besides its enabling us to dry our wet clothes; but the crew were warned that they would have to rouse up about midnight, when Captain Billings expected the tide would have gone down sufficiently to enable us to get the long-boat out of danger, and turn her over on the beach beyond high-water mark.

I confess that I went off to sleep at once; and neither the shaking of Jorrocks, nor the noise the men made in righting the long-boat, served to wake me up till it was broad daylight next morning, when I opened my eyes to find the sun shining down on a calm sea that hardly made a ripple on the beach, with the long-boat upright in her proper position, alongside the jolly-boat, and high and dry ashore.

There was a delicious smell of something cooking in one of Pat Doolan's galley pots, hung gipsy fashion over a roaring fire, and superintended by the Irishman, now himself again. A large tent had also been rigged up by the aid of the boat sails and tarpaulins, making the place have the appearance of a cosy encampment, and offering a pleasant change to the desolate look it had worn the previous afternoon—when the sea was roaring in, hurling a deluge of foam on the beach, and we, wet and forlorn, were endeavouring to save the flotsam and jetsam of the long- boat's cargo.

"Sure an' you're a foine gintleman, taking it aisy," said Pat Doolan, when I went up to him. "An' is it a pannikin o' coffee you'll be afther wanting, this watch?"

"I shouldn't refuse it if you offered it," said I, with a laugh.

"Be jabers, you're the bhoy for the coffee!" he replied cheerily. "An' its meeself that's moighty proud to sarve you. Sure an' I don't forgit how you thried, like a brave gossoon, to save that poor chap last night!"

"Ah!" I ejaculated, feeling melancholy when he thus brought up Harmer's fate, which had passed out of my mind for the moment. "But you did your best, too, Pat."

"Bad was the bist then, alannah, bad cess to it!" said he. "There, now, Mister Leigh, dhrink your coffee an' ha' done with it. The poor chap's gone, and we can't call him back; but have you heard tell of the news? Misther 'Old-son-of-a-gun' is moighty bad this morning, too, and the skipper think's he's a going too, by the same token!"

"Indeed!" I cried, turning towards the tent, seeing Captain Billings standing close by it. The news was too true. The wetting and shock to the system had completed what a low fever had begun, and Mr Ohlsen's days—nay, hours—were numbered. Ere the sun had again set, we had to mourn the loss of the second of our shipmates!

Towards evening of this day, the wind got up again even more fiercely than it had done the night before—the heavy southern billows rolling in again upon the beach with a terrible din, although they could do no harm now to either of our boats, both being snugly sheltered beyond their reach.

But when it grew dark, we witnessed a wonderful phenomenon.

It made many of the seamen believe that they were dreaming over again the scene connected with the burning of the Esmeralda; while others went almost wild with terror, fancying that the end of the world was come—or that, at all events, the natural display we saw of the greatest wonder of the arctic and antarctic worlds, was a portent of fresh disasters to us, greater than all we had already passed through!

The heavens were as black as death all around, with no moon. Not a star to be seen; when, all at once, the whole horizon glowed with a living fire, lighting up the ocean in front of us, and reflecting upwards and outwards from the snow-covered peaks on the background of water beyond the beach. The wave-tossed surface of the sea changed to a bright vermilion tint, making it look like a lake of raging flames. Through the crimson sky, streaks of brighter light shot across at intervals from right to left, and back again from left to right, in coruscations of darting sparks that would ever and anon form themselves into crosses and diamonds of different shapes; while, in the middle of this wonderful transformation scene, the wind blew with immense force, howling over sea and land with a wild shriek and deep diapason, accompanied by blinding showers of hail and sleet and snow, that made us all creep under the folds of the canvas of our tent for shelter.

"What is this? What does it mean?" I asked Captain Billings, who seemed the only one of us unmoved by the unwonted sight, that had as much terror as grandeur about it.

"It is what is called an Austral aurora—the aurora Australis, as scientific men term it; though, how it is caused and what it is occasioned by, I'm sure I can't explain to you, my lad. All I know is this, that it is never seen in the vicinity of Cape Horn without a stiff gale and rough weather following in its track; so we had better all of us look out for squalls!"



CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.

"ALL THE WAY ROUND."

The skipper was right in his prognostication about the weather; for, during the next few days, we experienced a terrible gale from the south- west, snow falling without intermission all the time, and making huge drifts to the windward of the island, while even in sheltered places it was over four feet deep, with the pile continually increasing as the flakes drove down in one steady stream.

Of course, it was bitterly cold, but, knowing what sort of climate the vicinity of Cape Horn rejoiced in, Captain Billings, before abandoning the ship, had ordered the men to bring all their warm clothes with them, he himself adding to the stock with all the spare blankets he could find in the cabin; and now, although these things were amongst the stores of the long-boat when she capsized, they fortunately escaped being thrown into the sea and lost on her "turning the turtle," for they were securely fastened below the thwarts, so when the boat was recovered they were still to the good all right—with the exception of their being thoroughly soaked in sea water, which an exposure before Pat Doolan's fire, and a hang-out in the fresh breezy air, soon remedied.

It was now the month of August, about the coldest time of the year on the coast of Tierra del Fuego, or "The Land of Fire," as this portion of the South American Continent was somewhat inappropriately christened by its original discoverer, the veteran navigator Magalhaens. He called it so, when he sailed round it in 1520, from the fact of the natives lighting watch-fires in every direction as soon as his ship was perceived nearing any of the channels transecting the archipelago, as if to give warning of his approach, a practice still pursued by the Tierra del Fuegans up to the time present, as all voyagers round Cape Horn well know.

However, in spite of the inclemency of the season, we made ourselves pretty comfortable. We had lost the greater portion of the three months' stock of provisions we had taken with us; but still we had enough to last for three or four weeks, and Captain Billings hoped to spin out our store by the aid of the different species of wild fowl which frequented the islands, in addition to the abundant supply of fish that the southern waters contain—that is, until, as we hoped, some passing ship should pick us up and convey our little party to more civilised regions.

But, while the snowstorm lasted, we all suffered more or less from the severity of the weather, many of the men having their feet and hands frostbitten, and poor Mr Macdougall almost losing his nose!

"I say," said Sails to Pat Doolan, on seeing that worthy shivering while trying to re-light the fire—which an avalanche of snow, descending from a precipitous rise above the site of our tent, had suddenly buried, along with the cook's pots and pans, just as he was preparing our morning meal, on the fourth day of the storm—"how about that Manilla guernsey o' yourn now, old flick? Guess it would come in handy, eh!"

"Be jabers, an' it would that," replied the Irishman, with much heartiness; "I only wish I had it across me back now, and I was aboard that schooner ag'in; an' faix, I'd die happy!"

Pat's fire was soon lighted again; but the fall of snow from above, without any previous warning, might have caused serious injury to some of us if it had come down in the night. It quite broke down our tent, and it took us some hours' hard work, using broken oar-blades for shovels, to dig away the immense heap of frozen debris that the unexpected slip of the accumulation on the top of the cliff had caused. Really, if the avalanche had fallen when we were all inside and asleep, perhaps not one of us would have escaped alive, as it must have been many tons in weight!

We thought, from the continuation of the snowstorm, that we would have to endure all the miseries of an antarctic winter; but, towards the evening of the fourth day, the south-westerly gale gradually lost its force, shifting round a bit more to the northwards. Strange to say, although the wind now came from what, in our northern latitudes, we esteem a colder quarter, it was ever so much warmer here, on account of its passing over the warm pampas of the Plate before reaching us, the effect of which soon became apparent in the melting of the snow on the ground as rapidly as when a thaw takes place at home. Properly speaking, however, the snow rather may be said to have dried up than melted, for it was absorbed by the air, which was dry and bracing.

The flakes, that had up to now continued coming down without cessation, also ceased to fall—much to our satisfaction, as I need hardly add; for, albeit it is very nice to look out from a warm, well-furnished room at the beautiful winter garb of Nature, and highly enjoyable to go out snowballing, when you can leave it off and go indoors to a jolly fire when you like, it was a very different matter to us now to experience all the discomforts of those dreadful, icy, spongy, little feathery nuisances penetrating beneath every loophole they could find entrance to, in the apology for a tent that we had, and to have our clothing sodden by it, our fire put out, and our blood congealed. Perhaps even the most ardent snow-lover would lose his taste for the soft molecules under such circumstances!

On the fifth day, the sun appeared again, when Captain Billings took advantage of the opportunity for getting an observation as to our position, using Mr Macdougall's sextant, his own and mine having gone to the bottom when the long-boat was upset. The skipper, I may add, had also to make use of the mate's watch—the chronometer that had been brought from the ship having shared the fate of the other instruments, standard compass and all having passed into the safe keeping of old Neptune and his Tritons, who, if they cared about the study of meteorology, had a rare haul on this occasion!

The observation he now obtained only confirmed the skipper's previous impression that we were on Herschel Island, one of the Hermite, or Cape Horn group, the mountainous peaks of which are mainly composed of green stone, in which hornblende and feldspar are more or less conspicuous, and the presence of iron very apparent, some of the rocks being intensely magnetic, causing the needle of a little pocket compass I had to execute all sorts of strange freaks.

When the weather got fine, we took a walk round the island as far as the ridge that bisected it would allow, finding the elevated ground clothed with thickly growing trees, principally a species of spruce fir called the antarctic beech, which runs to a height of some thirty or forty feet, with a girth of five or six feet. It is a magnificent evergreen, and would look well on an English lawn, for it has a splendid spreading head.

Beside this beech, there was a pretty little laurel tree, and the arbutus, which one of the sailors, who was from Devonshire, would persist in calling a myrtle bush, although the skipper showed him the berries to convince him to the contrary. There was also a sort of wild strawberry plant plentiful enough about, running like a vine over the rocks under the cliff; but there was nothing like what we call grass to be seen anywhere, only clumps or tussocks of a fibrous material like hemp, with long, ragged, straggling ends.

So much for the botany of the island; as for the living creatures, "barring ourselves," as Pat Doolan would have expressed it, there were "race horses," "steamer" ducks, and penguins, besides a species of wild goose that we had seen off the Falkland Islands, and which Sails described to me as being so tough that a shipmate of his, who was once trying to gnaw through the drumstick of one when in Stanley Harbour, had his eye knocked out by the bone "fetching back" sharply through the elasticity of the tendon which his teeth missed hold of—a tough morsel to chew away at, if the yarn be true, eh?

But, amongst all these specimens of animated nature, we did not see a trace of any of the natives—a fact which I took care to point out to the skipper, expressing my belief that he had only been romancing about the "cannibals," as he termed them.

He, however, denied this.

"No, my lad," he said. "The natives of this coast are a small, barbarous race of beings, whom one can hardly call men. They go about in the inclement climate without a rag of covering on, save a bit of raw sealskin which they shift from shoulder to shoulder as a protection against the wind, just as we get a vessel's sails round on the port or starboard tack.

"The inhabitants of one island are hostile to those of the next, killing them, and eating them too, whenever they have the chance! They have no sort of government, as most other islanders, even the most savage, have, and, of course, no laws—in which perhaps they are all the better off. They never cultivate the soil, or do anything for a living, as we would say at home; and they mainly occupy the sea-shore, living on whatever mussels they can manage to pick up, and the blubber of any occasional fish they come across. I'm told they also eat that toad-stool we see growing on the beech trees; and if they'd do that, they'd eat anything! Sometimes they venture out long distances to sea in their rude canoes, like catamarans, which they contrive out of a couple of branches of a tree and sealskins sewn together with fish-gut, but they never go without their blessed fire, though—always carrying it along with them wherever they go, up the mountains, on the beach, in their frail boats, the live embers resting always in the latter on a bed of leaves—the reason for this solicitude being, not that they are followers of Zoroaster and worship the god of fire, but because they know the difficulty they would have in rekindling it again if they once allowed it to go out, as Pat Doolan suffered ours to do the other day, when you know the consequences, eh?"

"Yes, I remember well," I said, laughing. "We hadn't another match left, none of us having thought of bringing a supply from the ship, save a box which one of the men in the jolly-boat fortunately had in his pocket that first evening of our landing. Then we wanted a fire badly, and couldn't build one until he got ashore, and this box was expended up to the last match; so, on the second occasion, Mr Macdougall had to snap off nearly all the caps he had for his gun before he could get a light, the snow having damped them. Oh, yes, I remember Pat's fire going out very well!"

A day or two after this conversation I had the chance of corroborating the skipper's statement about the natives.

We had now been on the island nearly a fortnight, and our stores were becoming rapidly diminished; for we were now only twenty-five in all, since Mr Ohlsen and the seaman Harmer had died, but still this was a large number to provide for out of the scanty stock we had left us through the loss of nearly two-thirds of our provisions by the upsetting of the long-boat—the few perishable articles saved when we righted her again being uneatable from the effects of the salt water, which turned the meat putrid and converted our flour and biscuit into the most unpalatable paste.

Captain Billings had hoped that some of the sealing schooners that rendezvous about the neighbourhood of Cape Horn, in search of the blubber and skins of the marine animals frequenting the shoals there, would have put in ere this and taken us off the inhospitable shore on which we had been forced to take refuge, or else that some passing ship homeward bound or sailing west into the Pacific would have picked us up; but, never a sail hove in sight, and, as our provisions daily grew less, although the men had been rationed down to a couple of biscuits and an ounce of salt pork per day, something had to be done, or else starvation would quickly stare us in the face!

The skipper therefore summoned Mr Macdougall to a consultation, at which I also was allowed to be present, for our sad plight had united us all together on the most brotherly terms, if I may so speak of the relations both the mate and Captain Billings bore towards me—although the skipper had always remembered Sam Pengelly's exhortation on parting with me when he left me in his charge, to "remember the b'y!"

I think, too, I have already mentioned that since I had helped to save his life, Mr Macdougall had not only completely changed in his treatment towards me, but was an altogether different man in every respect. The men used to say, "That bath of salt water washed all the confounded bumptiousness out of him!"

"I have determined—that is, if you agree with me, Macdougall," said the skipper, when we had assembled in the tent, pointing with his ringer to a spot on a chart of the coast that he had brought with him from the Esmeralda, and which the wetting it had received in our spill among the breakers had not damaged very materially, for it looked right enough now, spread out on top of Mr Macdougall's chest, he being lucky enough to get his safe on shore—"I have determined," repeated Captain Billings—"that is, if you agree with me—to make a tour of inspection of the neighbouring islands, to see if we can get any help or some provisions to keep us going until a ship passes."

"That's weel, vara weel," said Mr Macdougall, with an approving cough.

"And if our quest should be unsuccessful, why, we must proceed to Good Success Bay—that point to the south-east of the mainland, opposite Staten Island—where there'll be more chance of our intercepting a vessel."

"Hech, mon, but it's a gude long deestance, I reecken?" replied the mate, in a questioning way.

"About a hundred miles I make it," said the skipper, measuring the space on his chart with his fingers, for lack of a pair of callipers. "But, with the southerly and westerly wind that we nearly always have here, the boats ought to fetch the place in a couple of days at most."

"Vara weel, Cap'en, I'm ae weelin' to agree to eenything; but I misdoubt tak'ing to the sea since more in yon open boat. 'Twas only the grace o' Proveedence that saved us in landin' here, and we didna get clear off then!"

"No, we didn't," said the skipper, with a chuckle. "But we won't essay that long trip yet awhile—at all events, not until we are forced to. We will try the islands near us first; and then, if we meet with no luck there, why, we'll shape a course for Good Success Bay."

"All richt, I'm agree'ble," answered Mr Macdougall, quite satisfied that we were not going to put to sea again in a hurry in our frail craft, which were indeed not very staunch to brave the perils of the open sea; so it was decided, accordingly, that the jolly-boat, with a picked party, should proceed the next day on a surveying tour amongst the neighbouring islands.

The following morning, therefore, Captain Billings, Jorrocks, and I, with three of the sailors—Mr Macdougall being left behind at his own request in charge of the remainder of the crew—started on the investigating expedition, directing the boat first towards a small island lying-to the westwards, and the closest to us of all that we could distinguish from the beach where our camp was.

This island, however, we found to be uninhabited, and even more bare and sterile than the one we had landed on; so, hoisting the small lugsail which the jolly-boat carried, we made over more to the north-west, towards Wollaston Island, the largest in the archipelago, and about the same distance away from us that the Isle of Wight is from Selsea Bill.

On reaching this we found a couple of native families living on the shore in rude huts, composed of the branches of trees, and with mud and stones heaped over them. The people were the ugliest I had ever seen, being more like baboons than men and women. They were dwarfish in stature, the tallest of the party not exceeding five feet in height, and the majority of the others quite a foot shorter. I noticed also, as the skipper had told me, that their apparel was of the very scantiest possible, consisting only of a piece of sealskin, which was movable, so that it could be placed on the most convenient side for protecting them against the weather.

They were not able to help us much, looking miserably off; but they were hospitable enough, offering us some mussels and fish, and berries similar to those we had seen on the arbutus trees on our own island.

If they could not assist us materially, they put us up to one thing, and that was how to catch fish; for, although we had seen many of them jumping in the water, and swimming about the beach in front of our encampment, we had been unable to capture any, owing to there not being a single hook brought in the boats; and, sailors not being accustomed to use pins about their garments, we could not make use of these for a substitute.

The Tierra del Fuegans had a rare dodge to supply the deficiency. They fastened a limpet to the end of their lines, and, heaving it into deep water, the fish readily gorges it; when, before he can bring it up again, they pull him out, and thus they get their fish without losing their mussel.

"They're just like Turks!" cried Captain Billings, with a broad grin on his face.

"Why?" asked I, knowing that something funny was coming.

"Because they're regular musselmen!" said the skipper, laughing out loudly at the old joke, Jorrocks and I, of course, joining in.

The natives spoke some sort of gibberish of a language which we could not understand; nor could we make them comprehend what we wished to learn with reference to the sealing schooners, although the skipper shouted out the word "ship" to them as loudly as he could bawl, thinking thereby to make himself more intelligible.

Seeing, therefore, that we could do no good by remaining here, we started back for Herschel Island to rejoin our companions, getting there before it was dark—much to our own relief and to that of Mr Macdougall, who was anxiously looking out for us.

For another fortnight we remained here, experiencing the utmost privation, for our stock of provisions gradually dwindled down, our two- biscuit ration being reduced to one, then to half-a-one a day, and then to none at all, when all of us had to eat berries with the little piece of salt pork served out to us, and an occasional fish that we sometimes succeeded in catching in the native fashion.

At last, at the beginning of September, the skipper determined that all hands should put to sea again in the two boats, in order to make our way across the intervening gulf of water to Good Success Bay, at the extreme south-east point of Tierra del Fuego, opposite to Staten Island, on the other side of the Strait of Le Maire.

This plan was adopted, and we launched the boats, now much lighter than when they originally had left the poor Esmeralda, for they had nothing now to carry but ourselves, save water, our provisions being all exhausted.

For three days and nights we suffered terribly from hunger, besides being buffeted about by adverse winds; but, happily, the fourth morning brought us relief, although we had not yet got in sight of Staten Island.

Far away on the horizon, on our starboard hand, Jorrocks saw a ship standing to the westward; so, rigging up the long-boat's sails again— for the wind was contrary to the course we had been trying to fetch, and we had hauled them down in despair, allowing the boats to drift about on the ocean without heart or energy—we made a board to the south, so as to cut off the vessel as she steered towards Cape Horn, taking the jolly-boat in tow behind us, for she spread such little canvas that she could not keep up with the larger boat.

Fortunately, the wind held, and the ship did not change her course; so, about mid-day, we came up with her.

She was a London vessel, the Iolanthe, bound to Valparaiso; so her captain, seeing that we were shipwrecked mariners in distress, took us on board at once, and treated us like brothers, without waiting even to hear our story about the loss of the Esmeralda.

In thirty days more we were landed at Valparaiso.

Here, by rights, I ought to finish my yarn, for I said when I began that I was only going to give a full, fair, and truthful statement as to how I came to go to sea, and of my escape, just by "the skin of my teeth," as the saying goes, from the perils of the ocean off Cape Horn on this first voyage; and now, as the Esmeralda got burnt and her keel and bottom timbers are lying beneath the waves—the catastrophe terminating, of course, my voyage in her, to which this story only refers—what relates to myself further on is of no concern to any one!

However, not to leave you in suspense, I'll tell you how I got back home again to old England, although it was by a terribly roundabout route.

When we arrived at the Iolanthe's port, Captain Billings took passage home in the mail-steamer for Mr Macdougall and himself, as well as for three of the hands who wished to return to their native country; but the rest preferred to run the risk of picking up a ship and working their way back in that way, so as to have some little money on the landing, the wages due to them from the Esmeralda ceasing from the day of her loss.

The men of the mercantile marine have to put up with some hardship in this respect, for, when a vessel in which they may have shipped comes to an untimely end, like our unfortunate barque, they not only lose all their traps and personal belongings, but their wages as well—that is, beyond the period at which they actually assisted in working the ship, although they may have signed articles for a three years' voyage.

The skipper offered to take me home, too, but I was of the same opinion as the majority of my late shipmates. I did not desire to go back on Sam Pengelly's hands, like a bad penny, especially as I liked what I had seen of the sea in spite of its perils; so, when I mentioned this to Captain Billings, he said that although he would prefer my coming back to England with him and waiting till he got a fresh ship, he would not interfere with my wishes as to finding another berth at once. Indeed, he added, he already knew of one, as an old friend of his who commanded a ship just leaving Valparaiso for Australia had told him that he wanted a third mate.

"And if you like," said the skipper, "I'll recommend you to Captain Giles for the post."

"I shall be only too glad," I replied. The skipper did so; and the whole thing was settled off-hand, I signing articles with my new captain the same day, shortly before my late one left in the mail-steamer, which was just on the point of starting.

I took a cordial farewell of Captain Billings, promising that as soon as I got back to England, from the voyage I was just starting on, I would look him up. He promised, likewise, to give me a berth on board any ship he commanded—should the Board of Trade not withhold his certificate after the inquiry that would be held on the loss of the Esmeralda on his arrival home; and I may as well state here, that the officials entirely exonerated him from any blame in the destruction of the ship and cargo, putting the matter down to one of the ordinary risks of commercial life.

The skipper also promised to see Sam Pengelly for me, and to tell him how I was getting on. These mutual engagements being gone into, I and Jorrocks, having shaken hands with Captain Billings and Mr Macdougall, the latter of whom said he would "never forget me as long as he lived," were both making our way along the front of the one long street that Valparaiso consists of, thinking of taking off a boat soon to our new ship, the Jackmal, lying out in the offing—for Jorrocks, learning that Captain Giles wanted a boatswain, and knowing that I was going with him, agreed to go to sea with him in a moment—when, all at once, who should we come full butt on but the very last person in the world I expected to see here. I thought he was still at Dr Hellyer's, at Beachampton, cramming for an Oxford scholarship, as far as I knew to the contrary—who but—

Yes!—

Tom Larkyns, my old chum, who acted so wickedly in concert with me, when we blew up the schoolmaster and ran away to sea!

His uncle, he told me, had a foreign agency here; and the old gentleman having written home to his mother offering Tom a situation, he had at once been sent out at his own wish, preferring such a life greatly to that of going to the university and afterwards having to take holy orders, that being the only opening held out to him in England.

Tom also related that the Doctor had become a bankrupt, and the school broken up; but I was unable to hear anything further about the scene of my past misdeeds and experiences of "pandying" and "way of his own" of my former master, for while we were yet chatting together, Captain Giles came up, saying he was going off to the Jackmal at once, and would like Jorrocks and myself to come on board with him, as he intended sailing that afternoon.

So, wishing Tom good-bye, before many hours were over I was again floating on the deep.

From Valparaiso, we sailed to Sydney; then, taking a cargo of all sorts of "notions," as the Yankees say, we went on to Singapore; going thence to Bombay, in ballast. From India we proceeded back again to Australia, going to Melbourne this time; finally coming home to England, round the Cape of Good Hope—a good two years after I joined my new ship; for it was in October that I landed in Liverpool, while I had started away from Cardiff in the Esmeralda two years and five months previously exactly.

I was, however, all the better for my absence; for I had saved up over a hundred and fifty pounds, and I had grown a big strapping chap, with whiskers and beard in a small way, of which I was very proud.

Need it be asked where I first bent my steps on leaving my ship at Liverpool?

Why, to Plymouth, of course!

I got there early in the morning; and, being acquainted with Sam Pengelly's every-day practice, I knew exactly where to come across him, that is, unless he should happen to be ill; for every morning—except Sunday, when he always went to church, unless he chanced to be on board his little foretopsail schooner, which was not likely at this time of the year—he was invariably to be found on the Hoe, seated on one of the benches in front of Esplanade Terrace, looking over at the vessels out in the Sound, below and beyond.

Here I sought him; and here I found him, sure enough!

He did not see me coming; so, going behind the seat on which he was sitting, I clapped him suddenly on the back, exclaiming at the same time, in slight paraphrase of his old address to me that memorable December day when I first heard his friendly voice—

"Hallo, old cockbird! How are you?"

Gracious me, you should only have seen him jump!



CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.

AT HOME AGAIN.

Sam Pengelly started up, and looked at me as if he thought I was a ghost.

"What, laddie, is it you really?" he exclaimed, peering into my face with his own, which, usually as florid as a peony, was now all white with emotion; while his lips trembled nervously as he spoke. "Why," he said, after a close inspection to see whether I was actually Martin Leigh or else some base impostor assuming his voice and guise, "it is the young cockbird, by all that's living—ain't I glad!" And, then, throwing his arms round me in a bear-like hug, he almost squeezed every particle of breath out of my body.

"Now, come along," he said presently, when he could speak again, the kind-hearted fellow's joy choking him at first, and preventing him from uttering a syllable; though he sighed, and drew his breath again in a long sigh like a sob, and finally cleared his throat with a cough that might have been heard on Drake Island.

"Where?" I asked.

"Why, to Old Calabar Cottage, in course!" he replied, indignantly. "Do you think Jane won't be glad to see you? Why, she's been fretting her heart into fiddle-strings arter you all these last six months that you never wrote, thinking you was gone down to Davy Jones's locker!"

"I'm very sorry I couldn't write from Melbourne," I said. "We were so hurried that I had hardly time to get once ashore. You got my other letters, though, eh?"

"Oh, aye," replied Sam, as we went along the familiar old Stoke road that I knew so well, although it was now so long since I had seen it. "You've been main good in writin', laddie, an' I don't know what Jane would ha' done without your letters. She thinks you're Teddy still, I believe, and seems to have got fonder than ever of you since you left. Do you know what the woman did when Cap'en Billings came to tell us how he'd seen you, and you was goin' on first-rate?"

"No, I'm sure I can't say," I answered.

"Blest if she didn't throw her arms round his neck and kiss him—just because he had last seen you!"

I did not laugh at this, as Sam did; I only thought of the great affection, which, so undeserved by me, I had drawn from Jane Pengelly's great heart!

Presently, we came in sight of the cottage.

There it was, porch, creepers, and all, just as I had left it, only now the glow of the fuchsias had gone, with that of the scarlet geraniums and other flowers of summer; still, the autumn tints of the Virginian creeper, hanging down in festoons of russet and yellow and red from the roof, gave all the colouring that was wanted.

Sam opened the door and walked in, as usual; but it was before his usual time for returning from Plymouth, so Jane came out of the kitchen in surprise—this I could hear, for I remained without in the porch till he had warned her of my coming.

"Deary me, Sam, you are early," she said. "Why, the pasty won't be done for an hour and more."

"What, have you got a Mevagissey pie ag'in for dinner?"

"Yes, Sam," she replied.

"Now, that's curious," Sam said.

I could almost have felt certain that I knew what he was doing when he spoke those words in that way. He must have taken off his hat and begun scratching his head reflectively with the other hand, I'm certain!

"Curious?" repeated Jane. "Why?"

"Why, because we had it for dinner when the poor laddie left us."

"Deary me!" exclaimed Jane, her voice full of alarm. "There's no tidings of any harm come to he, surely!"

"No, no, Jane, my woman," said he, "the lad's all right; 'fact, I've— I've seen him this morning."

"This morning!" cried she, all excitement. "Why, what are you holding the door back for? It's him—he's here!"

And, in another moment, my second mother, as I shall always call her, was clinging round my neck with almost more than a mother's love for me—if that were possible!

"Deary me!" she said a little while after, "isn't he like Teddy, now?"

Sam burst out laughing.

"Why, Teddy was a slim boy of fourteen, and this laddie here's a fine strapping fellow, nearly six feet high, and as broad in the beam as a Dutch sloop!"

However, Jane wouldn't be convinced but that I was the very image of her own lost child; and, as I had all her wealth of affection in consequence, I'm sure I have no reason to complain.

I took up my quarters at "Old Calabar Cottage," as Sam loved to hear people call it, rolling out the full name himself with great gusto; and, in a little while, as things went on in the old way, I got so accustomed to everything around me that I could almost fancy my first voyage and the burning of the Esmeralda were a dream, as well as all my later experiences of the sea.

But, after a time, I began to long again to be on the deep, desiring once more to be daring its dangers and glorying in that "life on the ocean wave" which, once tasted by the true-born sailor, can never be given up altogether. I had just begun to deliberate with myself as to what sort of ship I should seek, and whither I would prefer to voyage for my next trip, when Sam came back from Plymouth one morning brimful of news.

"Well, laddie—who d'ye think I met to-day?" he called out to me, almost before he was quite inside the house.

"I'm sure I can't guess," I replied. "Who?"

"Why, Cap'en Billings, my cockbird!"

"Captain Billings!" I said, with surprise. "I thought he was in China."

"No, but he's going there this voyage."

"This voyage?" I repeated questioningly, after Sam had said the words.

"Aye, laddie; he's got a bran' new ship, which the owners of the Esmeralda have had built, and just made him skipper of. And, what do you think, laddie?"

"I'm sure I can't tell," said I.

"He's going to have a bran' new second mate, who he hears has just got his certificate from the Trinity House Board—that is, if he'll accept the berth under his old captain."

"What!" I exclaimed, breathless with excitement, "does he offer to take me with him as he promised?"

"Aye, laddie, the berth's open to you if you'll have it, he says. Will you go?"

"Go?" I repeated, "of course I will!"

And so it came about that I am going to sail under my old skipper again.

THE END.