As the fleet entered the straits, the hills at night blazed with fires. The explorers thought these fires were volcanoes. They were signal fires kindled by the natives. Magellan gave the place the name of "Tierra del Fuego"—the "Land of Fire," a name that it still bears.
The water ran icy cold. Peaks of crystal towered above the straits, and the sublimities of mountain desolations everywhere appeared. So amid awful chasms of the sea, now white with snows, now dark with shadows, the little fleet glided on, the farol in the air at night, and all eyes strained with wonder to see what new disclosure this strait would bring.
What must have been the reflection of Magellan as the mysteries of the new world lifted before his eyes?
Joy is the compensation of suffering, and if his happiness was as great as his trials had been, he must have indeed known thrilling moments. He had dared, and he had achieved.
He wondered at the fate of the Antonio, as the days went by. He indeed thought her lost, but yet hoped that she might appear.
"She has deserted us," ventured a loyal officer.
"No," reasoned the Admiral. "Mesquita would never desert me."
He was right. There were many true hearts that made the voyage like Del Cano's, but no heart was truer to Magellan than Mesquita's; and true hearts know and love each other.
The ships glided on slowly, without the Antonio. They had two new passengers in the giants whose lives must have been filled with wonder on ship-board.