He was a skilful navigator, and, on his voyages around Cape Horn, invariably passed through the Straits of Le Maire, which separate Staten Land from Terra del Fuego, and, by “hugging the land,” escape some of the severe blows so prevalent in that region. He having been on several exploring expeditions in those waters, I experienced a degree of security I should not otherwise have felt in approaching so near to huge and jagged rocks, that for ages had reared their frowning heads, as if in defiance of old ocean’s roar. We passed the veritable Cape Horn (situated on Hermit Island) in such close proximity, one could distinctly discern the barren soil. While I stood gazing at the conical BURNING OF THE HUMAYOON. {47} mount, said the captain, “You have now seen what many an old navigator in these waters never beheld, they keep so far south.” I assured him one sight was sufficient for a life-time; that the remembrance of the wildness and grandeur of that ocean scene would never be obliterated from the pages of memory. That night, it came on to blow tremendously. Next morning, we found ourselves eighty miles from land, and, horror of horrors, the ship on fire! My heart refused to give credence to the startling report, until my eyes beheld it. Our worst fears were too soon confirmed by the flames darting upwards, and igniting the hatch the men were vainly endeavoring to caulk; for fear had paralyzed their faculties. When that burnt and fell in, the flames shot upward almost to the top-mast-head. The combustible nature of the cargo caused the fire to increase with wonderful rapidity. The long-boat was launched, and I was placed therein, with my pet-goat; for I would not leave her behind: the other I had given to Myrtie. After several ineffectual attempts to get at some bread and water, the fire and smoke drove them all in confusion to the boat. They pulled off a short distance, and we gazed in sadness and silence upon what was so re{48}cently our happy home, now a burning wreck. The calmness of despair pervaded my whole being: all was comprehended at a glance,—eighty miles from land, and that an inhospitable coast, inhabited only by savages; without bread or water; in an open boat, exposed to the inclemency of Cape Horn weather! People on the land, seated by their pleasant firesides, imagine they can understand our feelings at that time; but it is impossible. Even when danger, in its most appalling form, threatens on the land, there is generally some avenue of escape open. But at sea, with nought but a frail plank between you and a watery grave,—and that so fragile, one dash of those mighty waves might annihilate it,—oh, the horror of such a situation can never be conceived!