I 8 THROUGH THE HEART OF PATAGONIA 



informed, kindly given most generous orders with regard to our 

 treatment. 



In the morning we disembarked forty-two sailors for the four men- 

 of-war lying at anchor in the bay. Then we sailed away again for 

 the south with a warm sun upon the crowded planking and a cold 

 wind blowing aft. It was at this time that I altered my original 

 plans and decided on landing at Puerto Madryn, our next stopping- 

 place, instead of at Santa Cruz, which lies some seven degrees of 

 latitude farther to the south. Upon hearing that winter had not 

 yet relaxed its grip on the country south, it became clear that 

 the horses down there would be thin and in poor condition, with 

 the spring sickness upon them, and therefore quite unfitted to 

 start upon such a journey as lay before us. The new scheme also 

 promised a saving of time, as the Primero de Mayo, owing to the 

 necessity of calling at various little places on the way down to 

 Santa Cruz, would be a good deal delayed ; besides, the horses we 

 required could probably be got together more quickly at Puerto 

 Madryn. 



We had a number of Welsh with us on the transport, who were 

 on their way home to the Welsh settlements of Trelew, Gaiman 

 and Rawson. In the evenings of the voyage it was their custom 

 to forgather and sing psalms in Welsh, psalms the sound of which 

 took one's memory back to the Scottish hills and the yearly ante- 

 communion preachings in the open-air. The surrounding greyness 

 aided the idea — grey sea, grey sky, grey weather. 



By the way, on board we learnt a fact, or so we were assured 

 it was, about the South African War, which is certainly not well 

 known even among- those who love the Boer. One night at table, 

 one of the diners solemnly declared that at Mafeking the English 

 ate the flesh of the Kaffirs and were thereby enabled to hold out 

 for so long. He was not attempting to hoax us, he really believed 

 the fable himself, poor fellow ! I did not gather the gentleman's 

 name. 



Coming on deck on the morning of the 15th, we saw, drawn 

 across the western sea-rim, a low brown line. Above it a sky of 

 steel-blue gleamed coldly and below a wash of grey sea. This was 

 our first view of Patagonia. All day we crept along the grim. 



