"British sloop-of-war Achilles," sung out Captain Joker. "What ship is that?"
"The Hercules."
"All right!"
We passed on, holding our breaths, and were soon out of reach.
But we were scarcely two miles out to sea, when the signal lantern of another of our blockaders appeared, and a shot was fired across our bows. But we kept straight on our way without paying the least attention to it. Another shot followed us as harmlessly as its predecessor, but a third struck the taffrail of our stern, sending up a shower of splinters.
"Blast 'em! blaze away with the Long Tom!" cried our little captain, getting in considerable of a tantrum for such a good natured fellow.
Bang! went the long brass swivel, and a flash from the enemy's guns, immediately afterward, let us see our ball strike her fair and broad in the starboard bow. We gave her one more compliment of a similar character, and then kept on our way, without further molestation, for we could easily outsail anything the enemy could bring against us.
It was the beginning of a tempest which raged with but little intermission, for several days; and we were kept hard at work, as a consequence. It let up, however, when we had reached a latitude far down the coast. We here had the satisfaction of capturing two richly-laden brigs from Valparaiso, which more than compensated us for our privations.
It had been decided, at first, to double the Horn, but as the weather bade fair to be more than commonly bad, we entered the Straits of Magellan, intending to gain the Pacific by this avenue. There was more danger attended by this route than by the Horn, as it was quite probable that we should meet some armed vessel of the enemy. In view of this probability, Captain Joker decided to make no captures while in the straits, however tempting an opportunity might offer, in order to disarm suspicion, if we should happen to fall in with a man-o'-war.
The Straits of Magellan—that broad avenue between the southern portion of the South American Continent and Terra del Fuego—links the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans by a fine channel, deep enough for the largest ship that floats. It is a wild and dreary scene. On both sides of the straits the character of the shore is eminently precipitous and inhospitable. The great cliffs of black granite rise from the water's edge, in most places, to a great hight, sparsely grown with stunted trees and a description of rank grass. The climate is almost always cold and dismal, with something falling all the time—snow or rain.