"Tim Darling didn't know but his father was well,
And his father didn't know but Tim Darling was well."
The parody ran thus:
"The cooks, they all know that the captain lives well,
And the captain, he knows that the cooks, they live well."
The captain listened to the music, which was fully equal to the poetry, but with a greater degree of prudence than he sometimes exercises, he controlled his temper and pocketed the insult.
June 16. A fine gale sprung up last night, and continues blowing to-day, bearing us on our course, westward of the Falkland Islands, towards the Strait of Le Maire, through which we hope to pass to-morrow.
June 17. A cloudless, golden sky in the morning, a pleasant breeze, a calm sea, a cool air, but not freezing, and a soft, hazy atmosphere, like one of our northern summer mornings. Tierra del Fuego lay before us on the right, and Staten Land on the left, their valleys and heights covered with snow. I promised myself the great gratification of a near view of both of these desolate regions; but in this I was doomed to disappointment.
Before ten o'clock the sky became filled with clouds, and the brilliancy of the morning gave place to darkness and gloom. An eclipse of the sun occurred during the day, which increased the darkness. The wind gradually died away, and we passed several hours at the entrance to the Strait of Le Maire, where we encountered a strong current till night, when we perceived the ship to be drifting astern. At about four p.m. the tide turned, and swept us back into the Strait again. It was now dark, and but little could be seen around us. The current carried us towards Staten Land, whose coasts were very bold and dangerous to approach, and were rendered doubly so at this time by the exceeding darkness of the night. Our sails were flapping uselessly against the masts, we had no control over the vessel, which was drifting at the rate of four knots an hour, and our situation was becoming perilous in the extreme. Captain J. was exceedingly anxious. He ordered the mate to have the boats in readiness, for we might soon want them. We were now only three miles distant from the coast as the captain conjectured. A heavy swell added to our danger and increased our difficulties; and there seemed scarcely a hope of our escaping shipwreck, on one of the most desolate and forlorn coasts of which the imagination can conceive. But just at this juncture, when a few minutes more would have sent the ship on to the rocks, a favorable wind providentially sprung up, the sails filled, the ship began to feel her helm, and we bade adieu to Staten Land.
But another danger awaited us. In getting clear of Staten Land we approached too near the coast of Tierra del Fuego, and came very near running upon a large rock that lies off that coast; but happily the sailor at the watch discovered it in season to wear ship, and sail by it. At length all the dangers of this hazardous passage were cleared, and before morning we had passed into the open ocean again.
We saw but few signs of vegetation on Staten Land. It was thrown up into mountains and precipices of the most rugged and barren character, and presented an aspect of dreary desolation. There were patches of low shrubs in sight on Tierra del Fuego, but no trees. The hills at the entrance to the Strait were less precipitous than those on Staten Land. But the whole scene, so far as the early darkness permitted us to view it, was as forbidding as it could well be. Immense flocks of ducks flew across the Strait towards Staten Land in the afternoon. There was also a flock of Cape Pigeons, perhaps a hundred in number, flying round the ship, and the passengers fed them with scraps of pork and with pot skimmings. As I watched this amusement, I could not suppress the thought that this was an inexcusable waste of those precious dainties, which should have been preserved for the manufacture of—scouse.