IDLE DAYS IN PATAGONIA 



CHAPTER I. 



AT LAST, PATAGONIA ! 



THE wind had blown a gale all night, and I had 

 been hourly expecting that the tumbling, storm- 

 vexed old steamer, in which I had taken passage to 

 the Rio Negro, would turn over once for all and 

 settle down beneath that tremendous tumult of 

 waters. For the groaning sound of its straining 

 timbers, and the engine throbbing like an over- 

 tasked human heart, had made the ship seem a 

 living thing to me ; and it was tired of the struggle, 

 and under the tumult was peace. But at about 

 three o'clock in the morning the wind began to 

 moderate, and, taking off coat and boots, I threw 

 myself into my bunk for a little sleep. 



Ours, it must be said, was a very curious boat, 

 reported ancient and much damaged; long and 

 narrow in shape, like a Viking's ship, with the 

 passengers' cabins ranged like a row of small 

 wooden cottages on the deck : it was as ugly 

 to look at as it was said to be unsafe to voyage in. 

 To make matters worse our captain, a man over 



B 



