Sunday, October 8th.—At 6 a.m. we weighed anchor, and proceeded on our voyage. At first there was not much to admire in the way of scenery, the shores being low and sandy, with occasional patches of scrubby brushwood, and a background of granite rocks and mountains.

Soon after passing Port Famine we saw the bold outline of Cape Froward, the southernmost point of South America, stretching into the Straits. It is a fine headland, and Tom ordered the engines to be stopped in order to enable Mr. Bingham to sketch, and me to photograph, both it and the splendid view back through the channel we had just traversed to the snowy range of mountains in the distance, crowned by Mount Sarmiento, not unlike the Matterhorn in appearance.

At this point the weather generally changes, and I suppose we must look forward to living in mackintoshes for some little time to come.

In the afternoon, when in English Reach, where many vessels have been lost, great excitement was caused on board by the appearance of a canoe on our port bow. She was stealing out from the Barbara Channel, and as she appeared to be making direct for us, Tom ordered the engines to be slowed.