evacuated by the latter power, though it is only of late years that they have been systematically colonised by England. The first governor, Lieutenant Moody, arrived there in 1842, when the site of the intended town was changed from Port Louis to Port Stanley. As a proof of the value of the islands, Mr Lafosse, a British merchant at Monte Video, paid 60,000 pounds to have the right over all cattle of every description to be found on the East Falklands, for six years and a half. From what I heard, the climate is very healthy. It is at times windy, but in summer it is as mild and dry as the south of England. In winter the cold is never severe, and only at intervals of several years does snow fall to any depth, so as to risk the destruction of cattle. The most remarkable production is the tussac, a gigantic species of grass, which grows to the height of ten feet, and is capable of sheltering and concealing herds of cattle and horses. The core of this grass is of so nutritious a nature, that people have been known to live for months on it, and to retain their health. From this cause the animals on the islands grow to a great size, and their flesh is of a particularly fine flavour. The great object for which the settlement was founded, was to afford a place where ships might repair, and to supply those going round Cape Horn, or returning home that way, with fresh provisions. It is also under contemplation to make it a penal settlement, for which it is in many respects particularly adapted, if sufficient employment for the convicts can be found.
Gerard and I were very anxious to get on shore to enjoy some of the sport we had heard so much about. “Wouldn’t it be fine to kill a fat bull, who would make nothing of tossing one twelve feet up in the air if he could but catch a fellow on the tip of his horns?” said he, rubbing his hands.
I agreed with him; but we had little hopes of having our wishes gratified, when a gentleman from the shore offered to give us a trip round in one of the Company’s schooners to the West Falklands, where she was going to procure cattle. As the ship was to remain here some days to have one or two slight defects made good, and to take in a supply of beef, fresh and salt, Captain Frankland allowed us to accept the offer, Mr Brand going to look after us. Away dashed the little schooner, the Sword-Fish, having a fine fresh breeze, with as merry a party on board as ever put to sea. There was our friend Mr Nathaniel Burkett, and his friend Mr Jonathan Kilby, both keen sportsmen, and up to all sorts of fun; and Gerard and I, and the master of the vessel, Tom Cribb by name, who, though not a good shot, seeing that he had but one eye, and that had a terrific squint, knew every inch of the coast, and exactly where we were likely to find sport; and then there was Cousin Silas, who was a first-rate shot, though he did not throw away his words by talking about the matter. Pleasant as our trip promised to be, many a gale has to be encountered off those wild islands, and dangers not a few. We, however, instead of standing out to sea and going round all, took a course, well-known to our skipper, among the numerous isles and islets grouped round the larger Falkland. Their names I cannot pretend to remember. At last we dropped anchor in a snug cove where we were to remain for the night. We, the sportsmen, were to have a boat left us, and we were to land, while the schooner ran on to a station some way further. We had one dog with us, Old Surley by name, belonging to Mr Kilby—as brave an animal as ever flew at a bull’s neck, for he feared neither bull nor beast of any sort. With our guns, plenty of ammunition, and a stock of provisions, we pulled up a creek where we could leave the boat in safety, and landed. We first climbed a rock on the shore, whence we could look about us and take a survey of the island. It was of considerable size. We saw that we should have no difficulty in penetrating across it, through the high tussac grass which almost entirely covered the ground. We first advanced together. We soon came to some curious green mounds, covered with a velvety moss, about two feet high and nine in circumference. I happened to sit down on one to tie my shoe, and it made a most comfortable seat.
“Do you know what that is?” said Mr Burkett, giving it a blow with the butt end of his gun, which broke the moss to pieces as if it had been a huge toadstool. The mossy coat was an inch and a half in thickness, and the whole interior appeared filled with wide-spreading miniature fir-trees. Every stalk, of which there were a great number, was edged with diminutive leaves like those of the fir; and the tops were sprinkled with little pieces of resin, brown outside and white within, some not larger than a pin’s-head, and others half the size of a filbert. We afterwards came to some mounds where the plants had pushed through the green moss, and their leaves having slightly expanded, they looked like miniature myrtles. Instead of going directly inland, we made our way along the shore among the penguin grass. This grows to the height of ten feet, on the top of clumps of decayed vegetable matter, forming large hillocks, which made the shore look as if it had been covered with a coppice of underwood. We took our way through it, often being hid from each other by the high grass, and had not gone far when a loud roar saluted our ears. Jerry and I were together, but we had lost sight of the rest of the party. I instinctively drew back, and he looked very much as if he would have run away, had he known where to run to. He says he felt very brave though.
“What’s that?” I exclaimed.
“A lion!” replied Jerry, looking uncomfortable.
“A wild boar,” said I; “there are no lions here.”
“A big bull, perhaps,” cried my companion. “I hope his horns are not sharp!”
Our guns were loaded only with small shot, so that we could hope to make but little impression on the body of a wild animal. The roar was repeated, and there was a loud rustling among the penguin grass on a mound near us. The grass moved rapidly. We looked towards it. Presently the huge head of a ferocious-looking animal appeared glaring at us from among the grass. We shouted lustily for help to our friends.
“Let’s run, it is a lion—I told you so,” cried Jerry; “no time to lose, if we don’t wish to be eaten up!” Suiting the action to the word, Jerry turned round, and, in attempting to escape, tumbled over some of the tangled stalks, and lay sprawling on the ground, while I endeavoured to lift him up. The huge monster all the time came roaring towards us, Jerry and I shouting out,—“Help, help, help! a lion, a lion!” In another moment I expected to feel his claws on my shoulder.