THE FALKLAND ISLANDS. 
193 
3 p.m. on the 22nd the clouds lifted for a moment, and we found ourselves in dangerous 
proximity to Jason East Cay, one of the small islands at the north-western end of the 
Falkland group. At sunset the sky cleared up, and we had a fine view of the summits of 
Steeple Jason, Grand Jason, and Elephant Jason, so named from their shapes. Passing down 
during the night along the northern shores of the Falklands, H.M.S. “Challenger” entered 
Stanley Harbour in the course of the 23rd, and anchored off the capital of this remote and 
little-known dependency of Great Britain. 
THE FALKLAND ISLANDS. 
It is needless to state that a hospitable reception awaited us. The harbour, crowded 
with wrecks towed in from the surrounding stormy seas, had an air of sadness. It is 
overlooked on all sides by bare hills strewn with white and grey boulders and dark patches 
of peat, and the whole suggests the idea of a Scotch or Irish moor brought down to the 
STANLEY, FALKLAND ISLANDS, SEEN FROM THE EAST. 
level of the sea—an illusion strengthened by the unmistakable British type of the inhabitants. 
The town straggles over the hill-side with that absence of symmetry and superfluous 
ornament so characteristic of the son of Albion. Many of the houses in Stanley, however, 
boast of charming conservatories gay with flowers and ferns. 
Stanley is the residence of the Bishop of the Falkland Islands, which see also includes 
the missionary stations situated in Tierra del Fuego. His Lordship, who is an accomplished 
sailor, was often to be seen on the pier superintending the repairs of the schooner in which 
he visits his scattered flock. One must have visited these storm-beaten islands, placed on 
the edge of the icy currents of the Antarctic, to appreciate the devotion of the men who 
look after the spiritual interests of such remote populations. Judging from the number of 
ruddy-faced children, the climate of the Falklands seems to be healthy. One day we invited 
the juveniles to come on board, and they thoroughly enjoyed the sights of the ship and the 
cakes provided for their refreshment. 
On the last day of January, during a dark and stormy night, a sailor belonging to the 
crew of our steam-pinnace fell into the water. One of the officers, Lieutenant A. Carpenter, 
threw himself overboard and succeeded in bringing the man to the surface, but, unfortunately, 
all endeavours to restore him to life were unavailing. On the following day we steamed 
into Berkeley Sound, situated north of Stanley Harbour, and stopped off Port Louis, a 
