uced the length of the bowsprit by about five feet, and
even then I found it reaching far enough from home; and more than
once, when on the end of it reefing the jib, I regretted that I had
not shortened it another foot.

CHAPTER VII

Weighing anchor at Buenos Aires--An outburst of emotion at the mouth
of the Plate--Submerged by a great wave--A stormy entrance to the
strait--Captain Samblich's happy gift of a bag of carpet-tacks--Off
Cape Froward--Chased by Indians from Fortescue Bay--A miss-shot for
"Black Pedro"--Taking in supplies of wood and water at Three Island
Cove--Animal life.

On January 26, 1896, the _Spray_, being refitted and well provisioned
in every way, sailed from Buenos Aires. There was little wind at the
start; the surface of the great river was like a silver disk, and I
was glad of a tow from a harbor tug to clear the port entrance. But a
gale came up soon after, and caused an ugly sea, and instead of being
all silver, as before, the river was now all mud. The Plate is a
treacherous place for storms. One sailing there should always be on
the alert for squalls. I cast anchor before dark in the best lee I
could find near the land, but was tossed miserably all night,
heartsore of choppy seas. On the following morning I got the sloop
under way, and with reefed sails worked her down the river against a
head wind. Standing in that night to the place where pilot Howard
joined me for the up-river sail, I took a departure, shaping my course
to clear Point Indio on the one hand, and the English Bank on the
other.

[Illustration: A great wave off the Patagonian coast]

I had not for many years been south of these regions. I will not say
that I expected all fine sailing on the course for Cape Horn direct,
but while I worked at the sails and rigging I thought only of onward
and forward. It was when I anchored in the lonely places that a
feeling of awe crept over me. At the last anchorage on the monotonous
and muddy river, weak as it may seem, I gave way to my feelings. I
resolved then that I would anchor no more north of the Strait of
Magellan.

On the 28th of January the _Spray_ was clear of Point Indio, English
Bank, and all the other dangers of the River Plate. With a fair wind
she then bore away for the Strait of Magellan, under all sail,
pressing farther and farther toward the wonderland of the South, till
I forgot the blessings of our milder North.

My ship passed in safety Bahia Blanca, a