NATURE AT SEA. 



71 



able in the extreme. I rarely make a voyage of any length but 

 some small bird is shaken out of a sail where it hid in its fright, 

 or is found taking refuge in the rigging. Once, while off Cape 

 Hatteras, a finch or sparrow of some species came aboard our 

 schooner, showing great fatigue and fear by its tremulous, hesi- 

 tating flight. Its small wings were of little avail to cope with the 

 wide blue expanse on which distance is so deceptive. It fluttered 

 about from rope to spar, glad to find "rest for the sole of its 

 foot," and although it made short detours reconnoitring sal- 

 lies now and then from the boat I think it invariably returned, 

 and decided to take passage with us to the land. 



On a calm evening I saw another larger bird looking like a 

 petrel, swimming about with Mother Carey's chickens. It had 

 long, swordlike wings, and was of a dark slate color above and 

 below pure white. Once a pair of tropic birds crossed our track. 

 We frequently catch glimpses of the bold shearwaters skimming 

 the distant seas, and hear their piercing cries as they dart along 

 the waves, now lost in the 

 trough of the sea or soaring 

 aloft, their breasts white as 

 the foam below. 



How welcome is every 

 unusual sight and sign of 

 life on the desert sea plains ! 

 The great schools of fish 

 ruffling the surface, now 

 and then leaping into full 

 view; the sleek porpoises showing their powerful tails or rac- 

 ing the ship under her bows ; the chance shark which dogs the 

 vessel ; the splendid physalias, or Portuguese men-of-war. How 

 eagerly the sailor scans the horizon to catch a glimpse of a sail, 

 and the discovery is soon known to every one on board ! A mere 

 phantom to an ordinary eye, he tells whether it be schooner, 

 bark, or brig, knows her course, perhaps also where she is bound 

 and what she carries. Now we see the topmasts only of some 

 vessel standing off on the horizon, or the gray form of a ship half 

 screened by the fog. Now a steamer passes us, and the thud of 

 the wheel and clang of its foghorn are heard long after it vanishes 

 in the mist. 



I never saw the physalia so abundant as on one afternoon of 

 this voyage. The surface of the sea heaved in long, gentle swells. 

 At times a dozen of these little sails could be counted from the 

 vessel. Those farthest away appear as white, glistening specks. 

 One, unusually large and handsome, floats near by. It looks like 

 a diminutive boat blown out of iridescent glass. Its transparent, 

 gleaming sail, gathered at the edge, is tinged with pink and blue 



FiQ. 5. Flying Gurnakd. 



