Samblich smiled at my
want of experience, and maintained stoutly that I would have use for
them. "You must use them with discretion," he said; "that is to say,
don't step on them yourself." With this remote hint about the use of
the tacks I got on all right, and saw the way to maintain clear decks
at night without the care of watching.
[Illustration: The man who wouldn't ship without another "mon and a
doog."]
Samblich was greatly interested in my voyage, and after giving me the
tacks he put on board bags of biscuits and a large quantity of smoked
venison. He declared that my bread, which was ordinary sea-biscuits
and easily broken, was not nutritious as his, which was so hard that I
could break it only with a stout blow from a maul. Then he gave me,
from his own sloop, a compass which was certainly better than mine,
and offered to unbend her mainsail for me if I would accept it Last of
all, this large-hearted man brought out a bottle of Fuegian gold-dust
from a place where it had been _cached_ and begged me to help myself
from it, for use farther along on the voyage. But I felt sure of
success without this draft on a friend, and I was right. Samblich's
tacks, as it turned out, were of more value than gold.
[Illustration: A Fuegian Girl.]
The port captain finding that I was resolved to go, even alone, since
there was no help for it, set up no further objections, but advised
me, in case the savages tried to surround me with their canoes, to
shoot straight, and begin to do it in time, but to avoid killing them
if possible, which I heartily agreed to do.
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