CHAP. IX.
The run from the isle of Elizabeth, through the Straits of Magalhaens.
Nautical details on this navigation.
We were now going to enter the woody part of the the straits of Magalhaens; and the first difficult steps were already made.
|Difficulties of the navigation along the isle of Elizabeth.| It was not till the 13th in the afternoon, the wind being N. W. that we weighed, notwithstanding the force with which it blew, and made sail in the channel, which separates the isle of Elizabeth from the isles of St. Barthelemi and of Lions[[71]]. We were forced to carry sail; though there were almost continually very violent squalls coming off the high land of Elizabeth island; along which we were obliged to sail, in order to avoid the breakers, which extend around the other two isles[[72]]. The tide in this channel sets to the southward, and seemed very strong to us. We came near the shore of the main-land, below Cape Noir; here the coast begins to be covered with woods; and its appearance from hence is very pleasant. It runs southward; and the tides here are not so strong as in the above place.
Bad weather, and disagreeable night.
It blew very fresh and squally, till six o’clock in the evening; when it became calm and moderate. We sailed along the coast, at about a league’s distance, the weather being clear and serene; flattering ourselves to be able to double Cape Round during night; and then to have, in case of bad weather, Port Famine to leeward. But these projects were frustrated; for, at half an hour after mid-night, the wind shifted all at once to S. W. the coast became foggy; the continual and violent squalls brought rain and hail with them; and, in short, the weather soon became as foul, as it had been fair the moment before. Such is the nature of this climate; the changes of weather are so sudden and frequent, that it is impossible to foresee their quick and dangerous revolutions.
Our main-sail having been split, when in the brails, we were forced to ply to windward, under our fore-sail, main-stay-sail, and close-reefed top-sails, endeavouring to double Point St. Anne, and to take shelter in Port Famine. This required our gaining a league to windward; which we could never effect. As our tacks were short, and being obliged to wear, a strong current was carrying us into a great inlet in Terra del Fuego; we lost three leagues in nine hours on this manœuvre, and were obliged to go along the coast in search of anchorage to leeward. |We anchor in Bay Duclos.| We ranged along it, and kept sounding continually; and, about eleven o’clock in the morning, we anchored a mile off shore, in eight fathom and a half, oozy sand, in a bay, which I named Bay Duclos[[74]]; from the name of M. Duclos Guyot, a captain of a fire-ship, who was the next in command after me on this voyage; and whose knowledge and experience have been of very great use to me.
Description of this bay.
This bay is open to the eastward, and its depth is very inconsiderable. Its northern point projects more into the sea, than the southern one; and they are about a league distant from each other. The bottom is very good in the whole bay; and there is every where six or eight fathom of water, within a cable’s length from the shore. This is an excellent anchorage; because the westerly winds, which prevail here, blow over the coast, which is very high in this part. Two little rivers discharge themselves into the bay; the water is brackish at their mouth, but very good five hundred yards above it. A kind of meadow lies along the landing-place, which is sandy. The woods rise behind it in form of an amphitheatre; but the whole country seems entirely without animals. We have gone through a great track of it, without finding more than two or three snipes, some teals, ducks, and bustards in very small number: we have likewise perceived some perrokeets[[75]]; the latter are not afraid of the cold weather.