THE STRAITS OF PATAGONIA. 
i 3 7 
intentions of the unfeathered biped—whose like they had probably never seen before—hovered 
about for a while and then also took their leave. I now returned to my look-out station, 
and, after once more reconnoitring the land, struck out in as straight a line as the nature of 
the ground would allow, now climbing the rocks, now sliding down the steep slopes, now 
skirting a marsh. On reaching the rivulet which I had feared might prove a difficulty, I 
happily found a spot where a tree had fallen across, thus forming a natural bridge. All this 
time the fire continued to spread, filling the atmosphere with a huge canopy of smoke. Night 
was coming on, and I had made up my mind to spend it in the open air on the top of 
a promontory not far distant, whence I could overlook the communication between Messier 
Channel and Gray Harbour. I had no sooner ascended the nearest ridge than, to my great 
joy, I saw one of our boats rounding the promontory and entering the inlet seen in the 
VIEW NEAR GRAY HARBOUR, LOOKING TOWARDS MESSIER CHANNEL. 
sketch. It was a search-party, commanded by Lieutenant George R. Bethell. Waving a flag 
of distress in the shape of a pocket handkerchief, I succeeded in attracting attention, and, 
the boat touching at the nearest point, Lieutenant Bethell plunged into the forest, I advancing 
to meet him from the opposite side.. We met among the trees, and, with the assistance of 
my rescuer, who piloted the exhausted wanderer, we got down to the boat. Then I learned 
that at nightfall, my presence being missed, a number of search-parties, provided with bugles 
and fire-arms, had started in different directions. As soon as the successful boat was 
sighted, it was received with three cheers by all hands, and a gun was fired to recall the 
volunteers. The scene as viewed from the ship's deck was now striking in the extreme. All 
round the harbour, and for several miles up the country, the forest was in a blaze, each tree 
standing out like a flaming torch and reflecting its image in the water, while the sky was 
hidden behind an immense cloud of smoke dyed red by the glare from below. It was truly 
no small or fancied peril from which the writer was happily delivered, and he might well 
say, in the words of Es-Sindibad, looking back upon his rescue, “ My heart was revived, 
my soul became at ease, and I experienced great comfort. . . . My courage was 
strengthened after I had made sure of destruction, so that it seemed that all which I then 
