"
It is now midnight, and, cunningly wedged into my bunk, unable to
sleep, I am writing these lines with flying dabs of pencil at my pad.
And no more shall I write, I swear, until this gale is blown out, or
we are blown to Kingdom Come.
CHAPTER XLI
The days have passed and I have broken my resolve; for here I am
again writing while the Elsinore surges along across a magnificent,
smoky, dusty sea. But I have two reasons for breaking my word.
First, and minor, we had a real dawn this morning. The gray of the
sea showed a streaky blue, and the cloud-masses were actually pink-
tipped by a really and truly sun.
Second, and major, WE ARE AROUND THE HORN! We are north of 50 in the
Pacific, in Longitude 80.49, with Cape Pillar and the Straits of
Magellan already south of east from us, and we are heading north-
north-west. WE ARE AROUND THE HORN! The profound significance of
this can be appreciated only by one who has wind-jammed around from
east to west. Blow high, blow low, nothing can happen to thwart us.
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