“Very seldom, Mr. Jeorling. He keeps himself to himself, and away from everybody. And yet, it is not for want of mouth. I never saw anything like his! And his hands! Have you seen his hands? Be on your guard, Mr. Jeorling, if ever he wants to shake hands with you.”
“Fortunately, boatswain, Hunt does not seem to be quarrelsome. He appears to be a quiet man who does not abuse his strength.”
“No—except when he is setting a halyard. Then I am always afraid the pulley will come down and the yard with it.”
Hunt certainly was a strange being, and I could not resist observing him with curiosity, especially as it struck me that he regarded me at times with a curious intentness.
On the 10th of November, at about two in the afternoon, the look-out shouted,—
“Land ahead, starboard!”
An observation had just given 55° 7ʹ latitude and 41° 13ʹ longitude. This land could only be the Isle de Saint Pierre—its British names are South Georgia, New Georgia, and King George’s Island—and it belongs to the circumpolar regions.
It was discovered by the Frenchman, Barbe, in 1675, before Cook; but, although he came in second, the celebrated navigator gave it the series of names which it still bears.
The schooner took the direction of this island, whose snow-clad heights—formidable masses of ancient rock—rise to an immense altitude through the yellow fogs of the surrounding space.
New Georgia, situated within five hundred leagues of Magellan Straits, belongs to the administrative domain of the Falklands. The British administration is not represented there by anyone, the island is not inhabited, although it is habitable, at least in the summer season.