SOME NARROW ESCAPES 
207 
our masts, which I would not allow, of course. 
Presently a little puff of wind came, then another, 
and I knew the wind was veering. Everyone stood 
by ready, and even the main-topmast staysail was 
bent on, ready to run up at the right moment. 
As we were a very big crew—twenty-five—for a 
small craft, everything could be attended to at 
once, so to speak. Some minutes later the breeze 
came without a lull, the cables were slipped at a 
favourable moment, and the main-topmast stay¬ 
sail run up ; the sails filled, and away she stood out 
to sea, a cheer going up as a sort of relief to our 
somewhat overstrained feelings. After clearing the 
end of the island, it blew so hard that we had to 
heave to. We were now short of anchors, and had 
only a hawser and about 30 fathoms of chain left; 
for, in addition to the two anchors and cables just 
slipped, we had left another and 45 fathoms of 
chain farther down the coast two days previously. 
Two days later we returned and recovered the 
anchors and chains, which we had buoyed before 
slipping. Needless to add, I never anchored in 
that spot again. While hunting in these parts 
risks have to be taken. Good anchorages do not 
exist. Of course, some places are better than 
others, but it is not always possible to reach them ; 
so, rather than be drifted off and lose the chance of 
hunting, we get our 64 hook ” down wherever sound¬ 
ings can be found. It is hardly necessary to say 
our vessels are uninsured ; no insurance company 
would care to take the risks, except, perhaps, at 
prohibitive premiums. 
Towards the end of May we fell in with several 
other schooners, and learned of the arrest of the 
