Steering to the north, and leaving these on
our left hand, we issued from the Straits of Magellan, and entered
Smyth's Channel, first passing Glacier Bay and Ice Sound, names which
speak for themselves. Mount Joy, Mount Burney, with its round
snow-covered summit, rising six thousand feet from the water, and
several unnamed peaks, were gradually left behind; until, at last,
after threading a labyrinth of small islands, we anchored for the
night in Otter Bay, a snug little cove, at the entrance to the
intricacies of the Mayne Channel.
[Illustration: Glaciers. Snowy Sound.]
It was almost dark when we arrived, but the children, Captain Brown,
and I, went on shore for a short time, and gathered a few ferns and
mosses. We also found the embers of a fire, which showed that the
natives were not far off, and we therefore thought it prudent to hurry
on board again before nightfall. No names of ships were to be seen;
but, in our search for ferns, we may possibly have overlooked them. We
have not come across any Fuegians to-day, though in two of the places
we have passed--Shell Bay and Deep Harbour, where a few wigwams are
left standing as a sort of head-quarters--they are generally to be met
with. During the night the watch again heard the natives shouting; but
no attempt was made to re-light the fire we had noticed, until we were
steaming out of the bay the next morning.
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