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_Sunday, October 8th_.--At 6 a.m. we weighed anchor, and proceeded on
our voyage. At first there was not much to admire in the way of
scenery, the shores being low and sandy, with occasional patches of
scrubby brushwood, and a background of granite rocks and mountains.
Soon after passing Port Famine we saw the bold outline of Cape
Froward, the southernmost point of South America, stretching into the
Straits. It is a fine headland, and Tom ordered the engines to be
stopped in order to enable Mr. Bingham to sketch, and me to
photograph, both it and the splendid view back through the channel we
had just traversed to the snowy range of mountains in the distance,
crowned by Mount Sarmiento, not unlike the Matterhorn in appearance.
At this point the weather generally changes, and I suppose we must
look forward to living in mackintoshes for some little time to come.
In the afternoon, when in English Reach, where many vessels have been
lost, great excitement was caused on board by the appearance of a
canoe on our port bow. She was stealing out from the Barbara Channel,
and as she appeared to be making direct for us, Tom ordered the
engines to be slowed. Her occupants thereupon redoubled their
efforts, and came paddling towards us, shouting and making the most
frantic gesticulations, one man waving a skin round his head with an
amount of energy that threatened to upset the canoe.
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