And far abroad the canvas wings extend, 
    Along the glassy plain the vessel glides, 
    While azure radiance trembles on her sides. 
    The lunar rays in long reflection gleam, 
    With silver deluging the fluid stream.

Sunday, October 8th. - At 6 a.m. we weighed anchor, and proceeded on our voyage. At first there was not much to admire in the way of scenery, the shores being low and sandy, with occasional patches of scrubby brushwood, and a background of granite rocks and mountains.

Soon after passing Port Famine we saw the bold outline of Cape Froward, the southernmost point of South America, stretching into the Straits. It is a fine headland, and Tom ordered the engines to be stopped in order to enable Mr. Bingham to sketch, and me to photograph, both it and the splendid view back through the channel we had just traversed to the snowy range of mountains in the distance, crowned by Mount Sarmiento, not unlike the Matterhorn in appearance.

At this point the weather generally changes, and I suppose we must look forward to living in mackintoshes for some little time to come.

In the afternoon, when in English Reach, where many vessels have been lost, great excitement was caused on board by the appearance of a canoe on our port bow. She was stealing out from the Barbara Channel, and as she appeared to be making direct for us, Tom ordered the engines to be slowed. Her occupants thereupon redoubled their efforts, and came paddling towards us, shouting and making the most frantic gesticulations, one man waving a skin round his head with an amount of energy that threatened to upset the canoe. This frail craft, upon a nearer inspection, proved to be made only of rough planks, rudely tied together with the sinews of animals; in fact, one of the party had to bale constantly, in order to keep her afloat. We flung them a rope, and they came alongside, shouting 'Tabaco, galleta' (biscuit), a supply of which we threw down to them, in exchange for the skins they had been waving; whereupon the two men stripped themselves of the skin mantles they were wearing, made of eight or ten sea-otter skins sewed together with finer sinews than those used for the boat, and handed them up, clamouring for more tobacco, which we gave them, together with some beads and knives.[4] Finally, the woman, influenced by this example, parted with her sole garment, in return for a little more tobacco, some beads, and some looking-glasses I had thrown into the canoe.

[Footnote 4: These skins proved to be the very finest quality ever plucked, and each separate skin was valued in England at from 4_l. to 5_l.]

The party consisted of a man, a woman, and a lad; and I think I never saw delight more strongly depicted than it was on the faces of the two latter, when they handled, for the first time in their lives probably, some strings of blue, red, and green glass beads. They had two rough pots, made of bark, in the boat, which they also sold, after which they reluctantly departed, quite naked but very happy, shouting and jabbering away in the most inarticulate language imaginable. It was with great difficulty we could make them let go the rope, when we went ahead, and I was quite afraid they would be upset. They were all fat and healthy-looking, and, though not handsome, their appearance was by no means repulsive; the countenance of the woman, especially, wore quite a pleasing expression, when lighted up with smiles at the sight of the beads and looking-glasses. The bottom of their canoe was covered with branches, amongst which the ashes of a recent fire were distinguishable. Their paddles were of the very roughest description, consisting simply of split branches of trees, with wider pieces tied on at one end with the sinews of birds or beasts.

Steaming ahead, past Port Gallant, we had a glorious view over Carlos III. Island and Thornton Peaks, until, at about seven o clock, we anchored in the little harbour of Borja Bay. This place is encircled by luxuriant vegetation, overhanging the water, and is set like a gem amid the granite rocks close at hand, and the far-distant snowy mountains.

Our carpenter had prepared a board, on which the name of the yacht and the date had been painted, to be fixed on shore, as a record of our visit; and as soon as the anchor was down we all landed, the gentlemen with their guns, and the crew fully armed with pistols and rifles, in case of accident. The water was quite deep close to the shore, and we had no difficulty in landing, near a small waterfall. To penetrate far inland, however, was not so easy, owing to the denseness of the vegetation. Large trees had fallen, and, rotting where they lay, under the influence of the humid atmosphere, had become the birthplace of thousands of other trees, shrubs, plants, ferns, mosses, and lichens. In fact, in some places we might almost be said to be walking on the tops of the trees, and first one and then another of the party found his feet suddenly slipping through into unknown depths below. Under these circumstances we were contented with a very short ramble, and having filled our baskets with a varied collection of mosses and ferns, we returned to the shore, where we found many curious shells and some excellent mussels. While we had been thus engaged, the carpenter and some of the crew were employed in nailing up our board on a tree we had selected for the purpose. It was in company with the names of many good ships, a portion of which only were still legible, many of the boards having fallen to the ground and become quite rotten.

Near the beach we found the remains of a recent fire, and in the course of the night the watch on deck, which was doubled and well-armed, heard shouts and hoots proceeding from the neighbourhood of the shore. Towards morning, too, the fire was relighted, from which it was evident that the natives were not far off, though they did not actually put in an appearance. I suppose they think there is a probability of making something out of us by fair means, and that, unlike a sealing schooner, with only four or five hands on board, and no motive power but her sails, we are rather too formidable to attack.

Monday, October 9th. - We are indeed most fortunate in having another fine day. At 6 a.m. the anchor was weighed, and we resumed our journey. It was very cold; but that was not to be wondered at, surrounded as we are on every side by magnificent snow-clad mountains and superb glaciers. First we passed Snowy Sound, in Tierra del Fuego, at the head of which is an immense blue glacier. Then came Cape Notch, so called from its looking as if it had had a piece chopped out of it. Within a few yards of the surrounding glaciers, and close to the sea, the vegetation is abundant, and in many places semi-tropical, a fact which is due to the comparatively mild winters, the temperate summers, the moist climate, and the rich soil of these parts. Passing up English Reach, we now caught our first glimpse of the Pacific Ocean, between Cape Pillar on one side, and Westminster Hall, Shell Bay, and Lecky Point, on the other. Steering to the north, and leaving these on our left hand, we issued from the Straits of Magellan, and entered Smyth's Channel, first passing Glacier Bay and Ice Sound, names which speak for themselves. Mount Joy, Mount Burney, with its round snow-covered summit, rising six thousand feet from the water, and several unnamed peaks, were gradually left behind; until, at last, after threading a labyrinth of small islands, we anchored for the night in Otter Bay, a snug little cove, at the entrance to the intricacies of the Mayne Channel.

It was almost dark when we arrived, but the children, Captain Brown, and I, went on shore for a short time, and gathered a few ferns and mosses. We also found the embers of a fire, which showed that the natives were not far off, and we therefore thought it prudent to hurry on board again before nightfall. No names of ships were to be seen; but, in our search for ferns, we may possibly have overlooked them. We have not come across any Fuegians to-day, though in two of the places we have passed - Shell Bay and Deep Harbour, where a few wigwams are left standing as a sort of head-quarters - they are generally to be met with. During the night the watch again heard the natives shouting; but no attempt was made to re-light the fire we had noticed, until we were steaming out of the bay the next morning.

Tuesday, October 10th. - In the early morning, when we resumed our voyage, the weather was still fine; but a few light clouds were here and there visible, and an icy wind, sweeping down from the mountains, made it appear very cold, though the thermometer - which averages, I think, 40 deg. to 50 deg. all the year round - was not really low. The line of perpetual snow commences here at an elevation of from 2,500 to 3,500 feet only, which adds greatly to the beauty of the scene; and as it is now early spring the snow is still unmelted, 500 feet, and even less, from the shore. The stupendous glaciers run right down into the sea, and immense masses of ice, sometimes larger than a ship, are continually breaking off, with a noise like thunder, and falling into the water, sending huge waves across to the opposite shore, and sometimes completely blocking up the channels. Some of these glaciers, composed entirely of blue and green ice and the purest snow, are fifteen and twenty miles in length. They are by far the finest we have, any of us, ever seen; and even those of Norway and Switzerland sink into comparative insignificance beside them. The mountains here are not so high as those of Europe, but they really appear more lofty, as their entire surface, from the water's edge to the extreme summit, is clearly visible. At this end of the Straits they terminate in peaks, resembling Gothic spires, carved in the purest snow; truly 'virgin peaks,' on which the eye of man has but seldom rested, and which his foot has never touched. They are generally veiled in clouds of snow, mist, and driving rain, and it is quite the exception to see them as distinctly as we now do.

After leaving Mayne's Channel, and passing through Union and Collingwood Sounds, we found ourselves beneath the shadow of the splendid Cordilleras of Sarmiento - quite distinct from Mount Sarmiento, already referred to - along the foot of which extended the largest glacier we have yet seen.[5] With Tarleton Pass on our right hand, and Childer's Pass on the left, we came in sight of Owen's Island, one extremity of which is called Mayne Head, and the other Cape Brassey, these places having all been so named by Captain Mayne, during his survey in the 'Nassau,' in 1869. Near the island of Esperanza, the clouds having by that time completely cleared away, and the sun shining brightly, we had a splendid view of another range of snowy mountains, with Stoke's Monument towering high in their midst. The numerous floating icebergs added greatly to the exquisite beauty of the scene. Some loomed high as mountains, while others had melted into the most fanciful and fairy-like shapes - huge swans, full-rigged ships, schooners under full sail, and a hundred other fantastic forms and devices. The children were in ecstasies at the sight of them.

[Footnote 5: I should explain that the names of places in these Straits frequently occur in duplicate, and even triplicate, which is rather confusing.]

As we gradually opened out our anchorage - Puerto Bueno - we found a steamer already lying there, which proved to be the 'Dacia,' telegraph ship, just in from the Pacific coast. Having dropped our anchor at about 5 p.m., we all went on shore, armed as before, some of the gentlemen hoping to find a stray duck or two, at a fresh-water lake, a little way inland. We met several of the officers of the 'Dacia,' who, being the first comers, did the honours of the place, and told us all they knew about it. The vegetation was as luxuriant and beautiful as usual - in fact, rather more so; for we are now advancing northwards at the rate of about a hundred miles a day. There were no ducks in the lake, but we enjoyed the scramble alongside it, to the point where it falls over some rocks into the sea. The gig was drawn under this waterfall, and having been loaded to her thwarts, with about three tons and a half of excellent water, she was then towed off to the yacht, where the water was emptied into our tanks, which were thus filled to the brim. A small iceberg, also towed alongside, afforded us a supply of ice; and we were thus cheaply provided with a portion of the requisite supplies for our voyage. The 'Dacia' had an iceberg half as big as herself lying alongside her, and all hands were at work until late at night, aided by the light of lanterns and torches, chopping the ice up and stowing it away.

Our boat being thus engaged, we were obliged to wait on shore until long past dark; but as we were a large and strong party, it did not much matter. Our men amused themselves by collecting a number of large and excellent mussels, some of which, distinguishable by the peculiar appearance of their shells, arising from a diseased condition of the fish, contained from ten to thirty very small seed pearls. The captain of the 'Dacia' came to dinner, and the officers in the evening; and they gave us much valuable information about the anchorages further up the Straits, and many other things. The captain kindly gave Tom all his Chilian charts of the Darien Channel, which has not yet been fully surveyed by the English Government, though the 'Nassau' passed through in 1869.

Wednesday, October 11th. - I never in my life saw anything so beautiful as the view when I came on deck this morning, at a quarter to five. The moon was shining, large and golden, high in the heavens; the rosy streaks of dawn were just tinging the virgin snow on the highest peaks with faint but ever-deepening colour; whilst all around, the foliage, rocks, and icebergs were still wrapped in the deepest shade. As the sun rose, the pink summits of the mountains changed to gold and yellow, and then to dazzling white, as the light crept down into the valleys, illuminating all the dark places, and bringing out the shades of olive-greens, greys, and purples, in the most wonderful contrasts and combinations of colour. The grandeur of the scene increased with every revolution of the screw, and when fairly in the Guia narrows we were able to stop and admire it a little more at our leisure, Mr. Bingham making some sketches, while I took some photographs. To describe the prospect in detail is quite impossible. Imagine the grandest Alpine scene you ever saw, with tall snowy peaks and pinnacles rising from huge domed tops, and vast fields of unbroken snow; glaciers, running down into the sea, at the heads of the various bays; each bank and promontory richly clothed with vegetation of every shade of green; bold rocks and noble cliffs, covered with many-hued lichens; the floating icebergs; the narrow channel itself, blue as the sky above, dotted with small islands, each a mass of verdure, and reflecting on its glassy surface every object with such distinctness that it was difficult to say where the reality ended and the image began. I have seen a photograph of the Mirror Lake, in California, which, as far as I know, is the only thing that could possibly give one an idea of the marvellous effect of these reflections. Unfit Bay, on Chatham Island, looking towards the mountains near Pill Channel, and Ladder Hill, which looks as if a flight of steps had been cut upon its face, were perhaps two of the most striking points amid all this loveliness.

All too soon came the inevitable order to steam ahead; and once more resuming our course, we passed through Innocents and Conception Channels, and entered Wide Channel, which is frequently blocked up with ice at this time of year, though to-day we only met with a few icebergs on their way down from Eyre Sound.

I have already referred to the extraordinary shapes assumed by some of the mountain peaks. That appropriately called Singular Peak - on Chatham Island - and Two-peak Mountain and Cathedral Mountain - both on Wellington Island - specially attracted our attention to-day. The first-named presents a wonderful appearance, from whichever side you view it; the second reminds one of the beautiful double spires at Tours; while the last resembles the tapering spire of a cathedral, rising from a long roof, covered with delicate towers, fret-work, and angles. In Wide Channel we felt really compelled to stop again to admire some of the unnamed mountains. One we christened Spire Mountain, to distinguish it from the rest; it consisted of a single needle-like point, piercing deep into the blue vault of heaven, and surrounded by a cluster of less lofty but equally sharp pinnacles. This group rose from a vast chain of exquisitely tinted snow-peaks, that looked almost as if they rested on the vast glacier beneath, seamed with dark blue and green crevasses and fissures.

All this time the weather continued perfect. Not a cloud was to be seen, the sun was hot and bright, and the sky was blue enough to rival that of classic Italy. If we could but be sure that this delightful state of things would continue, how pleasant it would be, to stop and explore some of these places. We have, however, been so frequently warned of the possibility of detention for days and even weeks at anchor, owing to bad weather, that we are hurrying on as fast as we can, expecting that every day will bring the much-dreaded deluge, gale, or fog. In thick weather it is simply impossible to proceed; and if it comes on suddenly, as it generally does, and finds you far from an anchorage, there is nothing to be done but to heave-to and wait till it clears, sending a party ashore if possible to light a fire, to serve as a landmark, and so enable you to maintain your position. How thankful I am that we have been hitherto able to make the passage under such favourable circumstances! It has been a vision of beauty and variety, the recollection of which can never be effaced.

Europe Inlet, on our right, going up Wide Channel, was full of ice. Husband's Inlet looked as if it was frozen over at the farther end, and Penguin Inlet seemed quite choked up with huge hummocks and blocks of ice. Tom therefore decided not to attempt the passage of Icy Reach, for fear of being stopped, but to go round Saumarez Island to Port Grappler by way of Chasm Reach, rather a longer route. It was a happy decision; for nothing could exceed the weird impressive splendour of this portion of the Straits. We were passing through a deep gloomy mountain gorge, with high perpendicular cliffs on either side. Below, all was wrapped in the deepest shade. Far above, the sun gilded the snowy peaks and many-tinted foliage with his departing light, that slowly turned to rose-colour ere the shades of evening crept over all, and the stars began to peep out, one by one. We could trace from the summit to the base of a lofty mountain the course of a stupendous avalanche, which had recently rushed down into the sea, crushing and destroying everything in its way, and leaving a broad track of desolation behind it. It must for a time have completely filled up the narrow channel; and woe to any unfortunate vessel that might happen to be there at such a moment!

Port Grappler is rather a difficult place to make in the dark; but Tom managed it with much dexterity, and by eight o'clock we were safely anchored for the night. We all wanted Tom to stay here to-morrow to get some rest, which he much needs, but he has determined to start at five o'clock in the morning as usual, for fear of being caught by bad weather. Even I, who have of course had no anxiety as to the navigation, felt so fatigued from having been on the bridge the whole day since very early this morning, that I went straight to bed before dinner, in order to be ready for to-morrow.

Thursday, October 12th. - A day as perfect as yesterday succeeded a clear cold night. We weighed anchor at 5.15 a.m., and, retracing our course for a few miles, passed round the end of Saumarez Island, and entered the narrow channel leading to Indian Reach. The greatest care is here necessary, to avoid several sunken rocks, which have already proved fatal to many ships, a large German steamer having been wrecked as recently as last year. The smooth but treacherous surface of the channel reflected sharply the cliffs and foliage, and its mirror-like stillness was only broken at rare intervals, by the sudden appearance of a seal in search of a fresh supply of air, or by the efforts, delayed until the very last moment, of a few steamer-ducks, gannets, or cormorants, to get out of our way.

Having accomplished the passage of Indian Reach in safety, we were just passing Eden Harbour, when the cry of 'Canoe ahead!' was raised. A boat was seen paddling out towards us from behind Moreton Island, containing about half-a-dozen people, apparently armed with bows and arrows and spears, and provided with fishing-rods, which projected on either side. One man was standing up and waving, in a very excited manner, something which turned out ultimately to be a piece of cotton-waste. Our engines having been stopped, the canoe came alongside, and we beheld six wild-looking half-naked creatures - two men, three women, and a very small boy, who was crouching over a fire at the bottom of the boat. There were also four sharp, cheery-looking little dogs, rather like Esquimaux dogs, only smaller, with prick ears and curly tails, who were looking over the side and barking vigorously in response to the salutations of our pugs. One man had on a square robe of sea-otter skins, thrown over his shoulders, and laced together in front, two of the women wore sheepskins, and the rest of the party were absolutely naked. Their black hair was long and shaggy, and they all clamoured loudly in harsh guttural tones, accompanied by violent gesticulations, for 'tabaco' and 'galleta.' We got some ready for them, and also some beads, knives, and looking-glasses, but through some mistake they did not manage to get hold of our rope in time, and as our way carried us ahead they were left behind. The passage was narrow, and the current strong, and Tom was anxious to save the tide in the dangerous English Narrows. We could not, therefore, give them another chance of communicating with us, and accordingly we went on our way, followed by what were, I have no doubt, the curses - not only deep, but loud - of the whole party, who indulged at the same time in the most furious and threatening gestures. I was quite sorry for their disappointment at losing their hoped-for luxuries, to say nothing of our own at missing the opportunity of bargaining for some more furs and curiosities.

Shortly afterwards there were seen from the masthead crowds of natives among the trees armed with long spears, bows, and arrows, busily engaged pushing off their canoes from their hiding-places in creeks and hollows; so perhaps it was just as well we did not stop, or we might have been surrounded. Not far from here are the English Narrows, a passage which is a ticklish but interesting piece of navigation. A strong current prevails, and, to avoid a shoal, it is necessary at one point to steer so close to the western shore that the bowsprit almost projects over the land, the branches of the trees almost sweep the rigging, and the rocks almost scrape the side of the vessel. Two men were placed at the wheel, as a matter of precaution, and we appeared to be steering straight for the shore, at full speed, till Tom suddenly gave the order 'Hard a-port!' and the 'Sunbeam' instantly flew round and rushed swiftly past the dangerous spot into wider waters. It is just here that Captain Trivett was knocked off the bridge of his vessel by the boughs - a mishap he warned Tom against before we left England.

Whilst in the Narrows we looked back, to see everything bright and cheerful, but ahead all was black and dismal: the sky and sun were obscured, the tops of the mountains hidden, and the valleys filled up with thick fog and clouds - all which seemed to indicate the approach of a storm of rain, although the glass was still very high. We went up South Reach and North Reach, in the Messier Channel, till, just as we were off Liberta Bay, in lat. 48 deg. 50' S., long. 74 deg. 25' W., the blackest of the black clouds came suddenly down upon us, and descended upon the deck in a tremendous shower - not of rain, but ofdust and ashes. Windows, hatches, and doors were shut as soon as we discovered the nature of this strange visitation, and in about half an hour we were through the worst of it: whereupon dustpans, brooms, and dusters came into great requisition. It took us completely by surprise, for we had no reason to expect anything of the sort. Assuming the dust to be of volcanic origin, it must have travelled an immense distance; the nearest volcano, as far as we know, being that of Corcovado, in the island of Chiloe, nearly 300 miles off. We had heard from Sir Woodbine Parish, and others at Buenos Ayres, of the terrible blinding dust-storms which occur there, causing utter darkness for a space of ten or fifteen minutes; but Buenos Ayres is on the edge of a river, with hundreds and thousands of leagues of sandy plains behind it, the soil of which is only kept together by the roots of the wiry pampas grass. For this dust to reach the Messier Channel, where we now are, it would have to surmount two chains of snowy mountains, six or seven thousand feet in height, and in many places hundreds of miles in width, and traverse a vast extent of country besides.

The weather was still so fine, and the barometer so high - 30.52 inches - that Tom determined to go to sea to-day, instead of stopping at Hale Cove for the night, as we had originally intended. Directly we got through the English Narrows, therefore, all hands were busily engaged in once more sending up the square-yards, top-masts, &c., and in making ready for sea. Just before sunset, as we were quitting the narrow channels, the sun pierced through the clouds and lightened up the lonely landscape as well as the broad waters of the Pacific Ocean. Its surface was scarcely rippled by the gentle breeze that wafted us on our course; the light of the setting sun rested, in soft and varied tints, on the fast-fading mountains and peaks; and thus, under the most favourable and encouraging circumstances, we have fairly entered upon a new and important section of our long voyage.

Although perhaps I ought not to say so, I cannot help admiring the manner in which Tom has piloted his yacht through the Straits, for it would do credit, not only to any amateur, but to a professional seaman. He has never hesitated or been at a loss for a moment, however intricate the part or complicated the directions; but having thoroughly studied and mastered the subject beforehand, he has been able to go steadily on at full speed the whole way. It has, however, been very fatiguing work for him, as he hardly ever left the bridge whilst we were under way.

We steamed the whole distance from Cape Virgins to the Gulf of Penas, 659 knots, in 76 hours, anchoring six times. This gives seven days' steaming, of an average length of eleven hours each; and as we stopped two or three hours, at different times, for Fuegians, photographs, and sketches, our average speed was nine and a half knots, though sometimes, when going with strong currents, it was twelve or fourteen, and, when going against them, barely six knots.

Just at dark, we passed between Wager Island and Cheape Channel, where H.M.S. 'Wager,' commanded by Captain Cheape, was wrecked, and we spent the night in the Gulf of Penas, almost becalmed.

Friday, October 13th. - We ceased steaming at 7.30 a.m., and made every effort throughout the rest of the day, by endless changes of sail, to catch each fleeting breath of wind. We did not, however, make much progress, owing to the extreme lightness of the breeze.

Sorry as we are to lose the scenery of the Straits, it is pleasant to find the weather getting gradually warmer, day by day, and to be able to regard the morning bath once more as a luxury instead of a terror. The change is also thoroughly appreciated by the various animals we have on board, especially the monkeys and parrots, who may now be seen sunning themselves in every warm corner of the deck. In the Straits, though the sun was hot, there was always an icy feeling in the wind, owing to the presence of enormous masses of snow and ice on every side.

Saturday, October 14th. - Light winds and calms prevailed the whole day. About 2 p.m. we were off the island of Socorro. In the afternoon a large shoal of whales came round the yacht. I was below when they first made their appearance, and when I came on deck they were spouting up great jets of water in all directions, suggestive of the fountains at the Crystal Palace. We were lying so still that they did not seem to be in the least afraid of us, and came quite close, swimming alongside, round us, across our bows, and even diving down under our keel. There was a shoal of small fish about, and the whales, most of which were about fifty or sixty feet in length, constantly opened their huge pink whalebone-fringed mouths so wide that we could see right down their capacious throats. The children were especially delighted with this performance, and baby has learned quite a new trick. When asked, 'What do the whales do?' she opens her mouth as wide as she can, stretches out her arms to their fullest extent, then blows, and finishes up with a look round for applause.

Soon after 8 p.m. the wind completely died away, and, fearing further detention, we once more got up steam.

Sunday, October 15th. - Still calm. We had the litany and hymns at 11 a.m.; prayers and hymns and a sermon at 5 p.m. In the course of the afternoon we were again surrounded by a shoal of whales. We passed the island of Chiloe to-day, where it always rains, and where the vegetation is proportionately dense and luxuriant. It is inhabited by a tribe of peculiarly gentle Indians, who till the ground, and who are said to be kind to strangers thrown amongst them. Darwin and Byron speak well of the island and its inhabitants, who are probably more civilised since their time, for a steamer now runs regularly once a week from Valparaiso to San Carlos and back for garden produce. The potato is indigenous to the island.

Tuesday, October 17th. - At 6 a.m., there being still no wind, Tom, in despair of ever reaching our destination under sail alone, again ordered steam to be raised. Two hours later a nice sailing breeze sprang up; but we had been so often disappointed that we determined to continue steaming. Just before sunset we saw the island of Mocha in the distance. It is said to have been inhabited at one time by herds of wild horses and hogs, but I think they have now become extinct.

One of our principal amusements during the calm weather has been to fish for cape-pigeons, cape-hens, gulls, and albatrosses, with a hook and line. We have caught a good many in this way, and several entangled themselves in the threads left floating for the purpose over the stern. The cape-pigeons were so tame that they came almost on board, and numbers of them were caught in butterfly-nets. Their plumage is not unlike grebe, and I mean to have some muffs and trimmings for the children made out of it. Allen, the coxswain of the gig, skins them very well, having had some lessons from Ward before we left England. I want very much to catch an albatross, in order to have it skinned, and to make tobacco-pouches of its feet and pipe-stems of the wing-bones, for presents.