o'
cross-currents to contend wi'. Whereas goin' east'ard through the
Beagle, we'll hev both wind and tide a'most allers in our favour.
'Sides, there'd be no bother 'bout the coorse. 'Tair jest like steerin'
in a river, an' along the coast ag'in. I'm wall acquaint' wi' every
inch o' 't."

That Captain Gancy, an experienced navigator, should be unacquainted
with the Beagle Channel may seem strange. But at the time of which we
write, this remarkable passage was of recent discovery, and not yet laid
down on the charts.

"How about the other matter?" he asks, in half whisper, glancing
significantly toward his wife and daughter, who are but a few paces off.
"Will the Beagle course be any the safer for that?"

"I can't say 'twill, sir," is the answer, in like undertone. "Tho' it
won't be any worse. Guess the danger's 'bout equil eytherways."

"What danger?" questions young Gancy, who has overheard the ugly word.

"O' the gig gettin' bilged, Mister Ed'ard," is the ready, but not
truthful, rejoinder. "In coorse thar's rough seas everywhar through
Fireland, an' wi' such a mite o' a boat, we'll hev to be on the
keerful."

"Then," says the Captain, his mind made up, after long and minutely
examining sea and coast all around through his glass, "then by the
Beagle Channel be it. And we may as well set out at once. I can see
nothing of the pinnace. If she'd weathered the gale and put in this
way, they'd be sure to sail on for the mainland. In that case, they may
sight us when we get well out on the open water."

"Jest so, Capting," says Seagriff, "an' as ye perpose, we mout as well
make the start now. We kin gain nothin' by stayin' hyar."

"All right, then. Let us be off."

So saying, the skipper takes a last look through the binocular, with a
lingering hope that something may still be seen of the consort boat;
then, disappointed, he leads the way down to the landing-place.

Their further stay on the island is for but a few minutes,--while the
two youths make a fresh raid on the penguinnery, and rob it of another
dozen of the young birds, as boat stores. Some tussac-asparagus is also
added, and then all resume their places on the thwarts, this time with
everything properly stowed and shipshape. The painter is drawn in and
the gig shoved off.

Once more under way, they encounter a heavy ground swell; but the breeze
is in their favour, and, with the sail set, they are able to keep
steadily before it. They