on
board again, the news ran round that we were to sail in the morning.
So, after a good night's rest, we cast loose from the wharf, and, with
a little assistance from the same useful tug that brought us in, got
fairly out to sea. All sail was set to a strong, steady north-wester,
and with yards canted the least bit in the world on the port tack, so
that every stitch was drawing, we began our long easterly stretch to the
Horn, homeward bound at last.

Favoured by wind and weather, we made an average run of one hundred and
eighty miles per day for many days, paying no attention to "great circle
sailing," since in such a slow ship the net gain to be secured by going
to a high latitude was very small, but dodging comfortably along on
about the parallel of 48deg. S., until it became necessary to draw down
towards "Cape Stiff," as that dreaded extremity of South America, Cape
Horn, is familiarly called by seamen. As we did so, icebergs became
numerous, at one time over seventy being in sight at once. Some of them
were of immense size--one, indeed, that could hardly be fitly described
as an iceberg, but more properly an ice-field, with many bergs rising
out of it, being over sixty miles long, while some of its towering peaks
were estimated at from five hundred to one thousand feet high. Happily,
the weather kept clear; for icebergs and fog make a combination truly
appalling to the sailor, especially if there be much wind blowing.

Needless, perhaps, to say, our look-out was of the best, for all hands
had a double interest in the safety of the ship. Perhaps it may be
thought that any man would have so much regard for the safety of his
life that he would not think of sleeping on his look-out; but I can
assure my readers that, strange as it may seem, such is not the case, I
have known men who could never be trusted not to go to sleep, no matter
how great the danger. This is so well recognized in merchant ships that
nearly every officer acts as if there was no look-out at all forward, in
case his supposed watchman should be having a surreptitious doze.

Stronger and stronger blew the brave west wind; dirtier, gloomier, and
colder grew the weather, until, reduced to two topsails and a reefed
foresail, we were scudding dead before the gale for all we were worth.
This was a novel experience for us in the CACHALOT, and I was curious
to see how she would behave. To my mind, the supreme test of a ship's
sea-kindliness is the length o