An albatross sitting on the water one day loomed up like a large ship; two fur-seals asleep on the surface of the sea appeared like great whales, and a bank of haze I could have sworn was high land.

The kaleidescope then changed, and on the following day I sailed in a world peopled by dwarfs.
[Illustration: Entrance to the Strait of Magellan.] On February 11 the _Spray_ rounded Cape Virgins and entered the Strait of Magellan.

The scene was again real and gloomy; the wind, northeast, and blowing a gale, sent feather-white spume along the coast; such a sea ran as would swamp an ill-appointed ship.

As the sloop neared the entrance to the strait I observed that two great tide-races made ahead, one very close to the point of the land and one farther offshore.

Between the two, in a sort of channel, through combers, went the _Spray_ with close-reefed sails.