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am sure I have no desire to go ashore," Mrs. Renshaw said, "and after the narrow escape Wilfrid had at Rio I should be glad if he did not set foot there again until we arrive at the end of the voyage."

      "He is not likely to get into a scrape again," Mr. Atherton said. "Of course it would have been wiser not to have stopped so late as they did in a town of whose ways they knew nothing; but you may be sure he will be careful another time. Besides, I fancy from what I have heard things are better managed there, and the population are more peaceable and orderly than at Rio. But, indeed, such an adventure as that which befell them might very well have happened to any stranger wandering late at night in the slums of any of our English seaports."

      There was a general feeling of disappointment among the passengers when the Flying Scud dropped anchor in the turbid waters of the La Plata. The shore was some five or six miles away, and was low and uninteresting. The towers and spires of the churches of Buenos Ayres were plainly visible, but of the town itself little could be seen. As soon as the anchor was dropped the captain's gig was lowered, and he started for shore to make arrangements for landing the cargo. The next morning a steam tug brought out several flats, and the work of unloading commenced. A few passengers went ashore in the tug, but none of the Renshaws left the ship. Two days sufficed for getting out the goods for Buenos Ayres. The passengers who had been staying at hotels on shore came off with the last tug to the ship. Their stay ashore had been a pleasant one, and they liked the town, which, in point of cleanliness and order, they considered to be in advance of Rio.

      CHAPTER V

      A BOAT EXPEDITION

      "Well I am not sorry we are off again," Marion Renshaw said as the men ran round with the capstan bars and the anchor came up from the shallow water. "What a contrast between this and Rio!"

      "It is, indeed," Mr. Atherton, who was standing beside her, replied. "I own I should have liked to spend six months in a snug little craft going up the La Plata and Parana, especially the latter. The La Plata runs through a comparatively flat and – I will not say unfertile country, because it is fertile enough, but – a country deficient in trees, and offering but small attraction to a botanist; but the Parana flows north. Paraguay is a country but little visited by Europeans, and ought to be well worth investigation; but, as you say, I am glad enough to be out of this shallow water. In a short time we shall be looking out our wraps again. We shall want our warmest things for doubling Cape Horn, or rather what is called doubling Cape Horn, because in point of fact we do not double it at all."

      "Do you mean we do not go round it?" Marion asked in surprise.

      "We may, and we may not, Miss Renshaw. It will depend upon the weather, I suppose; but most vessels now go through the Straits which separate Cape Horn itself from Tierra del Fuego."

      "Those are the Straits of Magellan, are they not?"

      "Oh, no!" Mr. Atherton replied. "The Straits of Magellan lie still further to the north, and separate Tierra del Fuego from the mainland. I wish that we were going through them, for I believe the scenery is magnificent."

      "But if they lie further north that must surely be our shortest way, so why should we not go through them?"

      "If we were in a steamer we might do so, Miss Renshaw; but the channels are so narrow and intricate, and the tides and currents run with such violence, that sailing-vessels hardly ever attempt the passage. The straits we shall go through lie between Tierra del Fuego and the group of islands of which the Horn is the most southerly."

      "Is the country inhabited?"

      "Yes, by races of the most debased savages, with whom, I can assure you, I have no desire whatever to make any personal acquaintance."

      "Not even to collect botanical specimens, Mr. Atherton?" the girl asked, smiling.

      "Not even for that purpose, Miss Renshaw. I will do a good deal in pursuance of my favourite hobby, but I draw the line at the savages of Tierra del Fuego. Very few white men have ever fallen into their hands and lived to tell the tale, and certainly I should have no chance whatever."

      "Why would you have less chance than other people, Mr. Atherton?"

      "My attractions would be irresistible," Mr. Atherton replied gravely. "I should furnish meat for a whole tribe."

      "How horrible!" Marion exclaimed. "What! are they cannibals?"

      "Very much so indeed; and one can hardly blame them, for it is the only chance they have of getting flesh. Their existence is one long struggle with famine and cold. They are not hunters, and are but poor fishermen. I firmly believe that if I were in their place I should be a cannibal myself."

      "How can you say such things?" Marion asked indignantly. "I never know whether you are in earnest, Mr. Atherton. I am sure you would never be a cannibal."

      "There is no saying what one might be if one were driven to it," he replied placidly. "Anyhow, I trust that I shall never be driven to it. In my various journeyings and adventures I am happy to say that I have never been forced to experience a prolonged fast, and it is one of the things I have no inclination to try. This weather is perfection, is it not?" he went on, changing the subject. "The Flying Scud is making capital way. I only hope it may last. It is sad to think that we shall soon exchange these balmy breezes for a biting wind. We are just saying, Wilfrid," he went on as the lad strolled up to them, "that you will soon have to lay aside your white flannels and put on a greatcoat and muffler."

      "I shall not be sorry," Wilfrid replied. "After a month of hot weather one wants bracing up a bit, and I always enjoy cold."

      "Then you should have gone out and settled in Iceland instead of New Zealand."

      "I should not have minded that, Mr. Atherton. There is splendid fishing, I believe, and sealing, and all that sort of thing. But I do not suppose the others would have liked it. I am sure father would not. He cannot bear cold, and his study at home used always to be kept up at almost the temperature of an oven all the winter. I should think New Zealand would exactly suit him."

      Before the sun set they had the satisfaction of sailing out of the muddy water of the La Plata, and of being once more in the bright blue sea. For the next week the Flying Scud sailed merrily southward without adventure. The air grew sensibly cooler each day, and the light garments of the tropics were already exchanged for warmer covering.

      "Do you always get this sort of weather down here, captain?" Mrs. Renshaw asked.

      "Not always, Mrs. Renshaw. The weather is generally fine, I admit, but occasionally short but very violent gales sweep down from off the land. They are known as pamperos; because, I suppose, they come from the pampas. They are very dangerous from the extreme suddenness with which they sweep down. If they are seen coming, and the vessel can be stripped of her canvas in time, there is little danger to be apprehended, for they are as short as they are violent."

      "We have been wonderfully fortunate altogether so far," Mrs. Renshaw said. "We have not had a single gale since we left England. I trust that our good luck will continue to the end."

      "I hope so too," the captain said. "I grant that a spell of such weather as we have been favoured with is apt to become a little monotonous, and I generally find my passengers have a tendency after a time to become snappish and quarrelsome from sheer want of anything to occupy their minds. Still I would very much rather put up with that than with the chances of a storm."

      "People must be very foolish to get out of temper because everything is going on well," Mrs. Renshaw said. "I am sure I find it perfectly delightful sailing on as we do."

      "Then you see, madam, you are an indefatigable worker. I never see your hands idle; but to people who do not work, a long voyage of unbroken weather must, I can very well understand, be monotonous. Of course with us who have duties to perform it is different. I have often heard passengers wish for what they call a good gale, but I have never heard a sailor who has once experienced one express such a wish. However staunch the ship, a great gale is a most anxious time for all concerned in the navigation of a vessel. It is, too, a time of unremitting hardship. There is but little sleep to be had; all hands are constantly on deck, and are continually wet to the skin. Great seas sweep over a ship, and each man has literally

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