I had the great good fortune once to get a fair wind between Cape Horn and Rio that satisfied even me, and about that time also I became convinced that the quickest way home was outside the Falkland Islands. I had consistently taken a track through the Straits of Le Maire, but, save under exceptional circumstances, I am confident that is the wrong course for a vessel bound to Rio. It is true that you experience fine weather off Cape Horn sometimes, but it is rare, and the sailing directions commenting on the subject say “that each fine day should be received thankfully as it comes.” For when bad weather sets in it comes suddenly, often accompanied with heavy and dense snow. On one occasion I was entering the Straits about midnight when snow came down heavily. From the best bearings I could get while the weather was still fairly clear I believed I was pointing fair for the middle of the passage, but I did not feel by any means happy in the matter, for the tides or currents thereabouts run strongly and uncertainly, swayed largely by the prevailing wind. I had to decide pretty quickly too. If I slowed down or stopped I could not tell where I might be set, so I came to the conclusion it was better to shoulder the risk and let her go. I did so and it came out all right, but I made a mental resolve that I would not be caught that way again. [Illustration: A HANDY MAINSAIL WHICH DOES NOT DRIVE SMOKE DOWN ON THE BRIDGE] The phenomenal fair wind which I have referred to was in the month of April. We had made a fairly decent passage to Cape Horn and passed outside the Falkland Islands as far at Lat. 44° S. when the wind began to blow strong from the north-east, with a falling glass, and at the same time showed an inclination to shift further to the eastward. Here, I thought, is a possibility of deriving some benefit if, as I concluded, a cyclonic system was passing to the eastward and we were on the south-east corner of it. There was a good bit of sea running, but I let her go off and set fore-and-afters. I was rewarded by the wind freeing still more, so that before dark I got the single reefed topsails and foresail on her, which was about as much as she would stand, for the sea was just abaft the beam, increasing all the time, and the ship was lurching very badly. That night stands out as one of my pleasantest recollections of sailoring, for there was a clear sea in front of us, as much wind as we wanted, and the need for good handling if the most was to be made of it. About midnight we were getting another pull on the weather braces, and the men of the watch were finding that it taxed all their energies to do it, for she was lurching horribly. The chief engineer came staggering along the poop to me to ask whether I could do anything to keep her steadier, as she had more than once rolled her vacuum away. This meant that her injection plate had been out of water, and I could readily believe it. I told him