Again and again we were caught up and passed by the
splendid homeward-bound colonial packets, some of them carrying
an appalling press of canvas, under which the long, snaky hulls,
often overwhelmed by the foaming seas, were hardly visible, so
insignificant did they appear by comparison with the snowy
mountain of swelling sail above.
So we fared eastward and ever southward, until in due time up
rose the gloomy, storm-scarred crags of the Diego Ramirez rocks,
grim outposts of the New World. To us, though, they bore no
terrific aspect; for were they not the turning-point from which
we could steer north, our head pointed for home? Immediately
upon rounding them we hauled up four points, and, with daily
improving weather climbed the southern slopes towards the line.
Very humdrum and quiet the life appeared to all of us, and had it
not been for the saving routine of work by day, and watch by
night, kept up with all our old discipline, the tedium would have
been insupportable after the incessant excitement of expectation
to which we had so long been accustomed. Still, our passage was
by no means a bad one for a slow ship, being favoured by more
than ordinarily steadfast winds until we reached the zone of the
south-east trades again, where the usual mild, settled wind and
lovely weather awaited us.
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