Charles Darwin

I remember the crossing at Cauquenes in late September. The water was white and loud, rushing over stones that seemed to shift beneath us. I held my breath, gripping the reins until my knuckles turned white, yet the world blurred into a single grey roar. My head felt as if it were filled with water itself; I could not tell if we had advanced or if we were merely being…

The sun had dipped below the horizon as I stepped from the damp deck onto the hard, flat stones of Sydney Cove. The air still carried the salt and a strange, dry dust that did not belong to the lush forests I left behind in South America. Around me, great ships lay anchored like sleeping leviathans, their masts forming a dark forest against the twilight sky. Warehouses loomed heavy and…