where
is there a harbour in the proper sense of the word, though six or seven
anchorages are recognized.

The island is situated in about 55 degrees S. latitude, and the climate
is comparatively cold, but it is the prevalence of strong winds that is
the least desirable feature of its weather.

Sealing, so prosperous in the early days, is now carried on in a small
way only, by a New Zealander, who keeps a few men stationed at the
island during part of the year for the purpose of rendering down sea
elephant and penguin blubber. Their establishment was known to be at the
north end of the island near the best of the anchorages.

Captain Davis had visited the island in the 'Nimrod', and was acquainted
with the three anchorages, which are all on the east side and sheltered
from the prevailing westerlies. One of the old-time sealers had reported
a cove suitable for small craft at the south-western corner, but the
information was scanty, and recent mariners had avoided that side of
the island. On the morning of our approach the breeze was from the
south-east, and, being favourable, Captain Davis proposed a visit.

By noon, Caroline Cove, as it is called, was abreast of us. Its small
dimensions, and the fact that a rocky islet for the most part blocks the
entrance, at first caused some misgivings as to its identity.

A boat was lowered, and a party of us rowed in towards the entrance,
sounding at intervals to ascertain whether the 'Aurora' could make use
of it, should our inspection prove it a suitable locality for the land
station.

We passed through a channel not more than eighty yards wide, but with
deep water almost to the rocks on either side. A beautiful inlet now
opened to view. Thick tussock-grass matted the steep hillsides, and the
rocky shores, between the tide-marks as well as in the depths below,
sprouted with a profuse growth of brown kelp. Leaping out of the water
in scores around us were penguins of several varieties, in their actions
reminding us of nothing so much as shoals of fish chased by sharks.
Penguins were in thousands on the uprising cliffs, and from rookeries
near and far came an incessant din. At intervals along the shore sea
elephants disported their ungainly masses in the sunlight. Circling
above us in anxious haste, sea-birds of many varieties gave warning
of our near approach to their nests. It was the invasion by man of an
exquisite scene of primitive nature.

[TEXT ILLUSTRATION]

Macqua