Few people have the opportunity of realising the beauty and grandeur of the scenery in this part of the world, which resembles nothing so much as the fjords of Norway in the winter time. The depth of water allows ships to navigate the narrowest channels, where glacier-bounded mountains rise precipitously from the waters edge. Once on rounding a headland we came upon a most unusual sight: some forty albatrosses were sitting on the water. Our arrival caused them considerable inconvenience and alarm, and it was the quaintest sight to see these huge birds with their enormous spread of wing endeavouring to rise, a feat which many of them were unable to achieve even after several attempts. All these "fjords" abound in seals—chiefly of the hairy variety—sea-lions, and every imaginable kind of penguin. Long ropes of seaweed, usually known amongst the seafaring world as kelp, grow on the submerged rocks, and are an invaluable guide to the sailor as they indicate the rocky patches. They grow to an enormous length, and are to be seen floating on the face of the water; in fact, we had many an anxious though profitable moment in these unsurveyed localities owing to their sudden and unexpected appearance. At intervals a sliding glacier would enshroud the face of a mountain in a dense mist formed by myriads of microscopic particles of ice, which would be followed by wonderful prismatic effects as the sun forced his way through, transforming the scene into a veritable fairyland of the most gorgeous lights and shades. Towards sunset the rose-pink and deep golden shafts of light on the snow-covered peaks beggared all description, and forced the onlooker literally to gasp in pure ecstasy. Only the pen of a brilliant word-painter could do justice to the wealth of splendour of this ever-changing panorama.
The true Patagonian is nearly extinct, and the Indians inhabiting Tierra del Fuego are of a low social order, very primitive, and wild in appearance. We sometimes passed some of these in their crude dug-out canoes, which they handle most dexterously. Considering the severity of the climate, the temperature of which runs round about 40° Fahr., they wear remarkably few clothes, and the children frequently none at all, which accounts for the hardiness of those that survive.
The difference between the east and west territory of the Straits of Magellan is very marked. The Atlantic end is bordered by sandy beaches and green, undulating slopes backed by mountains, and the weather at this time of year is generally fine and calm; whereas the Pacific side is devoid of all vegetation, glaciers and mountain crags covered with snow descend nearly perpendicularly to the Straits, and it is no exaggeration to say that it is possible to go almost close alongside these high walls without any damage to the ship. Here the weather is altogether different, frequent blizzards are attended by rough weather, with heavy seas off the entrance, and it is far colder. The cause of this contrast lies in the Andes, which extend down to Cape Horn and break the force of the strong westerly winds (the roaring forties) that prevail in these latitudes.
On Christmas Day, 1914, the two battle-cruisers were on their way to Europe. The Carnarvon spent the day coaling in Possession Bay in the Straits of Magellan. We were also there in the Cornwall, but were more fortunate in having finished coaling the previous evening; however, we went to sea during the afternoon. It was scarcely what one would term a successful day, for the ship had to be cleaned, and it was impossible to decorate the mess deck, as is the custom. Nevertheless, we had a cheerful Service, which was followed by Holy Communion, and for the mid-day dinner there was plenty of salt pork and plum-duff! Unfortunately, as has been related, we were not to get our mail or our plum-puddings for many a long day. The Kent, Glasgow, Bristol, and Orama had poor weather off the coast of Chile, which did not help to enliven their Christmas. The Otranto, perhaps, was the best off, having recently come from Sierra Leone, where she had filled up with provisions.
The Cornwall was the next ship to be ordered away. We left Port Stanley on January 3rd, 1915, and sailed for England to have the damage to our side properly repaired in dry dock.
It would be tedious to follow in detail the wanderings of the remainder of our ships, who proceeded with colliers in company to ferret out every nook and cranny in this indented coastline. The Newcastle and some Japanese cruisers operated farther to the north along the Pacific side. Admiral Stoddart's squadron must have covered many thousands of miles with practically no respite in this onerous and fatiguing duty. Their lot was by no means enviable, they were perpetually under way, except when they stopped to replenish with coal, their mails were of necessity very irregular, and they were seldom able to get fresh food. Imagine, then, with what joy they ultimately found the termination of their labours in the sinking of the Dresden!
[CHAPTER XVIII]
THE LAST OF THE "DRESDEN"
"Tell them it is El Draque," he said, "who lacks