_Saturday, September 9th_.--The last three days have been showery,
with squalls which have freshened to a gale, and we are now scudding
along, under all storm canvas, followed by crowds of cape-pigeons and
cape-hens, and a few albatrosses. Towards this evening, however, the
wind fell light, and we got up steam, in order to be prepared for any
emergency, as a calm is frequently succeeded on this coast by a
_pampero_, and we are now approaching a lee shore.
_Sunday, September 10th_.--Tom has been on deck nearly all night. The
shore is very low and difficult to distinguish, and the lights are
badly kept. If the lighthouse-keeper happens to have plenty of oil,
and is not out shooting or fishing, he lights his lamp; otherwise, he
omits to perform this rather important part of his duties. The
lighthouses can therefore hardly be said to be of much use. About 5
a.m. Kindred rushed down into our cabin, and woke Tom, calling out,
'Land to leeward, sir!' and then rushed up on deck again. The first
glimmer of dawn had enabled him to see that we were running straight
on to the low sandy shore, about three miles off, a very strong
current having set us ten miles out of our course. The yacht's head
was accordingly at once put round, and steaming seaward we soon left
all danger behind.
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