THE PACIFIC OCEAN. 261 



to her running rigging, the white, plump sails, belly- 

 ing from the wind, are all beautiful ; if she is to 

 windward, her clean white decks are visible as she 

 lies over, the crew collected in the waist, or about 

 the bows, the officers and passengers assembled on 

 the quarter-deck, gazing with equal curiosity to our 

 own, upon our appearance; the captain standing 

 with his speaking-trumpet in his hand ready to seize 

 the moment of nearest approach. He raises his 

 trumpet to his mouth — "Ship ahoy!" "Hilloa!" 

 " What ship is that, pray ? Where are you from ? 

 Where are you bound? How long are you out? 

 What's your longitude?" These and similar ques- 

 tions are mutually asked and answered, each reply 

 being acknowledged by a slight motion of the trum- 

 pet in the air. If there be opportunity, the pre- 

 vailing character of the winds with each, the pros- 

 pects of the voyage, the state of the respective 

 crews, and other nautical subjects, are interchanged ; 

 but usually the time afforded for speaking by the 

 vessels remaining within hail, is very brief, and they 

 again diverge, and soon are lost to each other below 

 the horizon. Yery often, from the sighing of the 

 wind among the cordage, the working of the ship, 

 the ripple and splash at her side, as well as from 

 distance, while the questions from being so much 

 in course, are perfectly intelligible, the answers are 

 almost inaudible, and can sometimes only be guessed 

 at, the consonants being entirely lost, and the vowel- 

 sounds alone heard. This will explain a laughable 

 incident which took place a few years ago, on the 



