I was
two days in the boat before an English tramp picked us up. And none
of the other boats ever was picked up."
"The Elsinore behaved very well last night," I put in cheerily.
"Oh, hell, that wasn't nothing," Mr. Pike grumbled. "Wait till you
see a real pampero. It's a dirty stretch hereabouts, and I, for one,
'll be glad when we get across It. I'd sooner have a dozen Cape Horn
snorters than one of these. How about you, Mr. Mellaire?"
"Same here, sir," he answered. "Those sou'-westers are honest. You
know what to expect. But here you never know. The best of ship-
masters can get tripped up off the Plate."
"'As I've found out . .
Beyond a doubt,"
Mr. Pike hummed from Newcomb's Celeste, as he went down the ladder.
CHAPTER XXIX
The sunsets grow more bizarre and spectacular off this coast of the
Argentine. Last evening we had high clouds, broken white and golden,
flung disorderly, generously, over the western half of the sky, while
in the east was painted a second sunset--a reflection, perhaps, of
the first.
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