We were steaming eastward through Beagle Channel. It was late at night, and before us there was the dim outline of a long panorama of islands; behind lay the ice-covered mountains of the tail of the Cordilleras. On each side were the black forest-covered steeps of the wild and melancholy Fuegian Islands. At 11 o’clock the twilight was still pouring over the white glacial sheets of the west; the tops of the islands were aglow with a curious pearly light. The water was as smooth as that of the Hudson, but deep down rested the feeble white reflections of the mountain heights. The coastal outline was indeterminable. We pushed along slowly, searching bay after bay for some signs of human life. On a neck of land an object was reported which might be a house, but we could not decide the question even with our best telescopes. We aimed for it. In a few minutes we discovered that our progress through the water was arrested. This was a mystery to us. The engines were forced to their limits, but we remained stationary. Soundings indicated that we were aground on a reef of rocks, but we had gone on so easily that no one had felt a jar. We hoped the tide would rise and lift us off, but it fell and left us stranded. At 4 o’clock in the morning the _Belgica_ began to careen, and at 6 o’clock she had a list, making it impossible to stand on the floor. We tried to brace her up with spars, but they broke like pipe-stems. We now made out the object on shore to be a house and saw also some signs of life about it. Presently a group of men came from it to us. They were Indians, under the direction of Mr. Lucas Bridges, a sheep-farmer. Mr. Bridges volunteered to help us in our efforts to save the ship. I went ashore with him to get the services of as many Indians as possible. The sailors and the Indians, working side by side, began at once to lighten the ship by removing cargo to the shores. Only two or three boat-loads were landed when a sudden storm rolled down the gullies from the high mountains to the north-westward, piling up a sea which made further communication with the ship impossible. From the shore we could see the _Belgica_ rock and roll in response to every gust of wind which passed over us. On the shore and on the ship there was little hope of saving the vessel. Following a tremendous squall we saw the Belgian colours go up and then felt relieved of fear. She drifted with the wind and in an hour disappeared behind a black head of land. The next day she returned and reported no serious injury. [Illustration: Mount William, Antwerp Island.] [Illustration: Mount Allo, Liege Island.]