I had passed the haunts of savages.

Great piles of granite mountains of bleak and lifeless aspect were now astern; on some of them not even a speck of moss had ever grown.

There was an unfinished newness all about the land.

On the hill back of Port Tamar a small beacon had been thrown up, showing that some man had been there.

But how could one tell but that he had died of loneliness and grief?
In a bleak land is not the place to enjoy solitude.
Throughout the whole of the strait west of Cape Froward I saw no animals except dogs owned by savages.