Well, we reached the tropics, and for three days the Doldrums held us. They had the usual festivities when crossing the Line, and Father Neptune visited us. Our worthy captain pleased all the passengers by the hearty way in which he entered into all their amusements. From my perch in my boat I enjoyed what I then thought were the last few days I had to live. Then came the day when a slight ripple appeared in the calm waters, which presaged a light breeze. This breeze turned into a fairly strong wind--and we had picked up the south-easterly trade. To my great relief, and to the very considerable astonishment of the doctor, from that moment I began to improve. As, each day, we made to the south, the cooler became the wind and the rougher the sea. It was a fine trade wind, and we bowled along with all sail set doing our eight or nine knots an hour day and night. And each day I felt better. Before we doubled the Cape of Good Hope and entered the long stretch which, tracking along the Southern Seas, due east, was to land us in New Zealand, I was actually walking with some slight help, and from that time onwards I improved to such an extent that I was able to take my turn now and again with one of the watches as an able seaman.
It was a long weary journey across those Southern Seas. The monotony of it, day after day, with the following wind, wave after wave apparently threatening to overtake us, yet our poop deck ever avoiding them. And so on until we reached Stewart Island. We made the North Passage, and on November 4, just ninety-two days after leaving London, we entered Port Chalmers.
Port Chalmers is the Port of Dunedin, that fine city in the South Island of New Zealand. Dunedin was named after the city of Edinburgh, which was once known as Dunedin. It is just chock full of Scotsmen, and it is very much to be doubted whether a better name could have been given it by those sons of Scotland who first made their home there. The climate of Dunedin much resembles the climate of Edinburgh itself. Snow covers its streets in the winter, and the great Mount Cook, clad in snow, hovers away in the far distance. Down towards the south scenery which not even the fiords of Norway can rival extends from the bluff towards the north. Milford Sounds are well known for their great beauty to all those who have travelled in those waters. I doubt whether there is any part of the world which, within such distances, is more magnificently picturesque than that southern corner of the South Island of New Zealand. Enough; this is not a guide book.