COVER POPO, AND FIND A WHITE BOY--HOW POPO WAS SAVED--GAIN
INFORMATION ABOUT HARRY, THE WHITE BOY.

Little did I think, scarcely six months before, when seated at a desk in
my father's counting-house, that I should ever see Cape Horn; yet there
it rose on our starboard beam, dark, solitary, and majestic, high above
the ocean, which rolled in vast undulations at its base.

Onward we glided, with the ship's head to the westward and the wind aft,
under all sail; now rising to the summit of a glass-like billow, now
sinking deep down into the valley to climb up the watery steep on the
opposite side. We had touched at Rio, to obtain a supply of wood and
water and fresh provisions; but I need not give a description of that
magnificent harbour, as nothing very particular occurred there.

"That's a fine sight!" I exclaimed, as I watched the mighty headland,
which gradually faded from view over our starboard quarter.

"You'll see a good many other fine sights," observed Peter Mudge, who
was somewhat matter-of-fact. "For my part, I have been glad to see the
last of it each time I have come round this way, and to get safe into
the Pacific; for twice I have been driven back, and have been kept
knocking about among the icebergs, with the wind sharp enough to cut our
noses off, for six blessed weeks or more. I only hope that is not to be
our lot this time."

"I hope not," I answered. "I was expecting to be in smooth water, with
a sunny sky overhead, before many days are over."

"So we may, youngster; then we'll hope for the best," said Mudge.
"Still, when a fellow has met with as many ups and downs as I have, he
learns not to fancy himself safe in harbour till he has got there."

This time, however, Mudge, and we his shipmates, were not doomed to
disappointment, and were, ere long, floating on the waters of the
Pacific. We ran to the northward with a flowing sheet, keeping much
closer in with the coast than, I believe, is usual, till we reached the
46th degree of south latitude. It then fell a dead calm. We had just
before caught sight of a sail away to the eastward, beyond which, some
forty or fifty miles off, rose the lofty peaks of the Cordilleras,
covered with eternal snows; or I should say, perhaps, the southern end
of that mighty chain which rises abruptly from the Isthmus of Panama,
and extends the whole length of the continent.

For the entire day we lay rolling our masts from side to side, till it
almost seeme