wireless station. Probably they had occupied the town. The
outlook seemed serious. The _Canopus_ had her instructions, however, and
there was no drawing back. The decks were cleared for action. Ammunition
was served out. Guns were loaded and trained. With every man at his post
the ship steamed at full speed into the harbour. Great was the relief
when it was found that all was well.

[Sidenote: German raid anticipated.]

[Sidenote: Shackleton's visit to South Georgia.]

The inhabitants were not less relieved. The presence of the battleship
was felt to add materially to the security of the town. The Germans
would probably hesitate before attacking a ship of her size. If they
sustained damage involving loss of fighting efficiency, there was no
harbour they could turn to for repair, except so far as their
seaworthiness was affected. Nevertheless, it was almost certain that
some raid upon the Islands would be attempted. Guns were landed from the
ship, and measures were taken to make the defence as effective as
possible. Perhaps if the enemy blockaded Stanley, the British would be
able to hold out until other warships, certain to be sent to avenge the
defeat, arrived. Relief could hardly be expected for two or three weeks.
The Falklands formed a very distant corner of the Empire. It was
doubtful, indeed, whether even the ubiquitous German spy had penetrated
to these remote and barren shores. It could, however, be recalled that,
in 1882, a German expedition had landed on South Georgia, a dependent
island of the Falklands, eight hundred miles to their south-east, to
observe the transit of Venus. Upon that same island, indeed, another
and a quite unsuspicious expedition had landed, early in that very
month, November. Sir Ernest Shackleton, the explorer, had left Buenos
Ayres on the morning of October 26, on his way across the antarctic
continent. His little vessel of 230 tons, the _Endurance_, passed
through the war zone in safety, and reached South Georgia on November 5.
He remained for about a month before leaving for the lonely tracts for
which his little party was bound. The island was his last link with
civilization. Though sub-antarctic, it possessed features as up-to-date
as electric-light, universal even in pigsties and henhouses. And the
march of man, it was observed, had introduced the familiar animals of
the farmyard, and even a monkey, into a region whose valleys, destitute
of tree or shrub, lay clothed with perpet