They jumped pell-mell, some into their canoes and some into the sea, to cool off, I suppose, and there was a deal of free language over it as they went.

I fired several guns when I came on deck, to let the rascals know that I was home, and then I turned in again, feeling sure I should not be disturbed any more by people who left in so great a hurry.
The Fuegians, being cruel, are naturally cowards; they regard a rifle with superstitious fear.

The only real danger one could see that might come from their quarter would be from allowing them to surround one within bow-shot, or to anchor within range where they might lie in ambush.

As for their coming on deck at night, even had I not put tacks about, I could have cleared them off by shots from the cabin and hold.
I always kept a quantity of ammunition within reach in the hold and in the cabin and in the forepeak, so that retreating to any of these places I could "hold the fort" simply by shooting up through the deck.
[Illustration: "They howled like a pack of hounds."] Perhaps the greatest danger to be apprehended was from the use of fire.

Every canoe carries fire; nothing is thought of that, for it is their custom to communicate by smoke-signals.