- We anchored in the fine bay of Port Famine.
It was now the beginning of winter, and I never saw a more
cheerless prospect; the dusky woods, piebald with snow,
could be only seen indistinctly, through a drizzling hazy
atmosphere.
We were, however, lucky in getting two fine
days. On one of these, Mount Sarmiento, a distant mountain
6800 feet high, presented a very noble spectacle. I was
frequently surprised in the scenery of Tierra del Fuego, at the
little apparent elevation of mountains really lofty. I suspect
it is owing to a cause which would not at first be imagined,
namely, that the whole mass, from the summit to the water's
edge, is generally in full view. I remember having seen a
mountain, first from the Beagle Channel, where the whole
sweep from the summit to the base was full in view, and then
from Ponsonby Sound across several successive ridges; and
it was curious to observe in the latter case, as each fresh
ridge afforded fresh means of judging of the distance, how
the mountain rose in height.
Before reaching Port Famine, two men were seen running
along the shore and hailing the ship. A boat was sent for
them. They turned out to be two sailors who had run away
from a sealing-vessel, and had joined the Patagonians. These
Indians had treated them with their usual disinterested
hospitality. They had parted company through accident, and
were then proceeding to Port Famine in hopes of finding
some ship.
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