er a refreshing rest and a warm
breakfast, and after I had swept the deck of tacks, I got out what
spare canvas there was on board, and began to sew the pieces together
in the shape of a peak for my square-mainsail, the tarpaulin. The day
to all appearances promised fine weather and light winds, but
appearances in Tierra del Fuego do not always count. While I was
wondering why no trees grew on the slope abreast of the anchorage,
half minded to lay by the sail-making and land with my gun for some
game and to inspect a white boulder on the beach, near the brook, a
williwaw came down with such terrific force as to carry the _Spray_,
with two anchors down, like a feather out of the cove and away into
deep water. No wonder trees did not grow on the side of that hill!
Great Boreas! a tree would need to be all roots to hold on against
such a furious wind.

From the cove to the nearest land to leeward was a long drift,
however, and I had ample time to weigh both anchors before the sloop
came near any danger, and so no harm came of it. I saw no more savages
that day or the next; they probably had some sign by which they knew
of the coming williwaws; at least, they were wise in not being afloat
even on the second day, for I had no sooner gotten to work at
sail-making again, after the anchor was down, than the wind, as on the
day before, picked the sloop up and flung her seaward with a
vengeance, anchor and all, as before. This fierce wind, usual to the
Magellan country, continued on through the day, and swept the sloop by
several miles of steep bluffs and precipices overhanging a bold shore
of wild and uninviting appearance. I was not sorry to get away from
it, though in doing so it was no Elysian shore to which I shaped my
course. I kept on sailing in hope, since I had no choice but to go on,
heading across for St. Nicholas Bay, where I had cast anchor February
19. It was now the 10th of March! Upon reaching the bay the second
time I had circumnavigated the wildest part of desolate Tierra del
Fuego. But the _Spray_ had not yet arrived at St. Nicholas, and by the
merest accident her bones were saved from resting there when she did
arrive. The parting of a staysail-sheet in a williwaw, when the sea
was turbulent and she was plunging into the storm, brought me forward
to see instantly a dark cliff ahead and breakers so close under the
bows that I felt surely lost, and in my thoughts cried, "Is the hand
of fate against me, after al