Hundreds of large sailing vessels pass Cape St. John every year on their long voyages from New York, the British Isles and Continental Europe to our Pacific coast. It is a great rendezvous, and the _Sagamore_ presently found herself in the midst of an imposing fleet of merchantmen of all nations. Here, at the southern extremity of the American continent, were ten ships and three barks, carrying the world’s products to San Francisco. Scores of eager faces lined the bulwarks, while on the poop of the nearest craft stood a woman—the first representative of the fair sex that anyone on the _Sagamore_ had seen for three months. As the large vessels, with all their canvas set, slowly mounted the regular swell, a murmur of admiration burst from the passengers, who longed for a far-reaching camera to preserve the beautiful picture through years to come. Those ships had completed the first half of their long journeys, and now sailed in company for a few hours, soon to be scattered far and wide upon the mighty Pacific, to meet again at the Golden Gate, thousands of miles away. It was a sight to make the pulses thrill. CHAPTER II. “Come on deck if you want to see Cape Horn!” called out Captain Meade to the passengers in the cabin, who instantly hurried on deck, for one can’t see the famous Cape every day. The captain silently pointed his finger, and there, looming up out of the morning mist, the passengers saw Cape Horn. It was nearly twenty miles off, but so deceptive are distances at sea that it seemed not half that distance away. Who can behold without a feeling of awe, that black and naked rock, rising precipitously from a low islet to a height of five hundred feet! Like some grim and frowning sentinel, it stands guard where the waters of the two great oceans meet; tyrannizing over and sorely harassing the staunch ships which even its power is rarely able to destroy; drawing on, but to beat roughly back; and occasionally permitting one of them to fly past without even a protest, as if to say, “I can be gracious when the mood’s upon me.” It was a sharp, bracing morning. Everything wore a peaceful aspect, in spite of the peculiar moaning and whistling sound in the rigging which is always heard here. To the south, a vast ice-floe glittered in the brilliant sunlight; to leeward, two thin columns of smoke-like mist rising from the water showed where a couple of whales were blowing; while much nearer the ship, five splendid albatross sat gracefully upon the heavy swell—their black wings in striking contrast to their snow-white backs and necks. This grand looking creature is to the birds of the ocean what the eagle is to the birds of the land, and the martial look in its piercing black eye suggests a prince in disguise from some fairy tale.