Samblich's tacks, as it turned out, were of more value than gold.
[Illustration: A Fuegian Girl.] The port captain finding that I was resolved to go, even alone, since there was no help for it, set up no further objections, but advised me, in case the savages tried to surround me with their canoes, to shoot straight, and begin to do it in time, but to avoid killing them if possible, which I heartily agreed to do.

With these simple injunctions the officer gave me my port clearance free of charge, and I sailed on the same day, February 19, 1896.

It was not without thoughts of strange and stirring adventure beyond all I had yet encountered that I now sailed into the country and very core of the savage Fuegians.
A fair wind from Sandy Point brought me on the first day to St.
Nicholas Bay, where, so I was told, I might expect to meet savages; but seeing no signs of life, I came to anchor in eight fathoms of water, where I lay all night under a high mountain.

Here I had my first experience with the terrific squalls, called williwaws, which extended from this point on through the strait to the Pacific.

They were compressed gales of wind that Boreas handed down over the hills in chunks.