with greater force than common, and he kept away to increase his distance from the land.  At the same time, the mist shut in the vessels from each other.  It was also past sunset, and a dark and dreary night was approaching.  This latter fact had been one of Daggett’s arguments for going outside.  Profiting by all these circumstances, Roswell tacked, and stood over towards Tierra del Fuego.  He knew from the smoothness of the water that an ebb-tide was running; and trusted to its force to carry him through the Straits.  He saw no more of the Sea Lion of the Vineyard.  She continued shut in by the mist until night closed around both vessels.  When he got about mid-channel, Roswell tacked again.  By this time the current had sucked him fairly into the passage, and no sooner did he go about than his movement to the southward was very rapid.  The squalls gave some trouble, but, on the whole, he did very well.  Next morning he was off Cape Horn, as described.  By this expression, it is generally understood that a vessel is somewhere near the longitude of that world-renowned cape, but not necessarily in sight of it.  Few navigators actually see the extremity of the American continent, though they double the cape, it being usually deemed the safest to pass well to the southward.  Such was Daggett’s position; who, in consequence of having gone outside of Staten Land, was now necessarily a long distance to leeward, and who could not hope to beat up abreast of the Hermits, even did the wind and sea favour him, in less than twenty-four hours.  A great advantage was obtained by coming through the Straits of Le Maire, and Roswell felt very certain that he should not see his late consort again that day, even did he heave-to for him.  But our hero had no idea of doing any thing of the sort.  Having shaken off his leech, he had no wish to suffer it to fasten to him again.  It was solely with the intention of making sure of this object that he thought of making a harbour.

In order that the reader may better understand those incidents of our narrative which we are about to relate, it may be well to say a word of the geographical features of the region to which he has been transported, in fiction, if not in fact.  At the southern extremity of the American continent is a cluster of islands, which are dark, sterile, rocky, and most of the year covered with snow.  Evergreens relieve the aspect of sterility, in places that are a little sheltered, and there is a meagre vegetation in spots that serve to sustain animal life.  The first strait which separates this cluster of islands from the main, is that of Magellan, through which vessels occasionally pass, in preference to going farther south.  Then comes Tierra del Fuego, which is much the largest of all the islands.  To the southward of Tierra del Fuego lies a cluster of many small islands, which bear different names; though the group farthest south of all, and which it is usual to consider as the southern termination of our noble continent, but which is not