I cast anchor before dark in the best lee I could find near the land, but was tossed miserably all night, heartsore of choppy seas.

On the following morning I got the sloop under way, and with reefed sails worked her down the river against a head wind.

Standing in that night to the place where pilot Howard joined me for the up-river sail, I took a departure, shaping my course to clear Point Indio on the one hand, and the English Bank on the other.
[Illustration: A great wave off the Patagonian coast] I had not for many years been south of these regions.

I will not say that I expected all fine sailing on the course for Cape Horn direct, but while I worked at the sails and rigging I thought only of onward and forward.

It was when I anchored in the lonely places that a feeling of awe crept over me.