never did so in the presence of my friends. Knowing that I
had those on board interested in me, I bore my sufferings and annoyances
with more equanimity than before. I one day, unknown to Captain
Longfleet, had the opportunity of giving my father's address to Mr
McTavish. He promised to write home from the first place at which we
touched. It would be useless for me to attempt writing, as my letter
would, I knew, be seen and taken from me. This was some comfort. I can
but briefly relate the incidents of the voyage.

While still to the southward of Cape Horn, the appearances of another
heavy storm came on. The lighter canvas was instantly handed. Almost
in an instant a heavy sea got up, into which the ship violently pitched
as she forced her way ahead. The flying jib having been carelessly
secured, the gaskets, or small ropes which bound it to the jibboom, gave
way. Two hands were immediately sent out to make it fast. While they
were thus employed, a tremendous sea struck the bows. One of the men,
old Growles, scrambled on to the bowsprit, to which he held on like grim
death, but before the other man could follow his example, the jibboom
was carried away and he with it. I saw the poor fellow struggling amid
the foaming seas. The captain did not on this occasion refuse to try to
save him. The ship was hove-to, and pieces of timber, an empty cask,
and a hen-coop, were hove overboard to give him the chance of escaping.
He failed to reach any of them. Mr McTavish and two of the men and I
were on the point of jumping into the jolly-boat to go to his rescue,
but the captain shouted out in no gentle terms, ordering us to desist,
and asked us if we wished to lose our lives also. This, if we had made
the attempt, we should certainly have done. The boat could not have
lived many moments in such a sea. For fully ten minutes the poor fellow
was observed buffeting with the waves, but he at length disappeared.
The ship was kept away, and we stood on our course. We soon afterwards
perceived the snow-capped mountains of Tierra del Fuego rearing their
majestic heads, and looking down on the raging waters below them.

The weather soon after moderated, and as we sighted Cape Horn the
captain ordered the topgallant and royal masts to be got up, and the
lighter sails to be set. With a gentle breeze from the eastward we
rounded the dreaded Cape, and found ourselves in the Pacific. I heard
some of the men say that they had