The fierce edge of the gale by this
time had blown off, and I had already bent a square-sail on the boom
in place of the mainsail, which was torn to rags. I hauled in the
trailing ropes, hoisted this awkward sail reefed, the forestaysail
being already set, and under this sail brought her at once on the wind
heading for the land, which appeared as an island in the sea. So it
turned out to be, though not the one I had supposed.
I was exultant over the prospect of once more entering the Strait of
Magellan and beating through again into the Pacific, for it was more
than rough on the outside coast of Tierra del Fuego. It was indeed a
mountainous sea. When the sloop was in the fiercest squalls, with only
the reefed forestaysail set, even that small sail shook her from
keelson to truck when it shivered by the leech. Had I harbored the
shadow of a doubt for her safety, it would have been that she might
spring a leak in the garboard at the heel of the mast; but she never
called me once to the pump. Under pressure of the smallest sail I
could set she made for the land like a race-horse, and steering her
over the crests of the waves so that she might not trip was nice work.
I stood at the helm now and made the most of it.
Night closed in before the sloop reached the land, leaving her feeling
the way in pitchy darkness. I saw breakers ahead before long. At this
I wore ship and stood offshore, but was immediately startled by the
tremendous roaring of breakers again ahead and on the lee bow.
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