The cold, bleak and barren shores of Patagonia lay off our starboard quarter as the Polaris cleaved the icy waves and tossed the foam-crested seas from her rugged breast. I leaned against the rail, and gazed ruefully at the desolate picture so many thousands of briny leagues from home and comfort, then filled my pipe, and with the fragrance of the smoke, fell into yet deeper introspection.