To California 



way to New York and our able little vessel was 

 drenched all day long. Of course our load of 

 oranges suffered, and since they were boarded 

 over level with the rail, we had difficulty in 

 walking and had many chances of being washed 

 overboard. The flying fishes off Cape Hatteras 

 appeared to take pleasure in shooting across 

 from wave-top to wave-top. They avoided the 

 ship during the day, but frequently fell among 

 the oranges at night. The sailors caught many, 

 but our big Newfoundland dog jumped for them 

 faster than the sailors, and so almost monop 

 olized the game. 



When dark night fell on the stormy sea, the 

 breaking waves of phosphorescent light were a 

 glorious sight. On such nights I stood on the 

 bowsprit holding on by a rope for hours in order 

 to enjoy this phenomenon. How wonderful 

 this light is ! Developed in the sea by myriads 

 of organized beings, it gloriously illuminates the 

 pathways of the fishes, and every breaking 

 wave, and in some places glows over large areas 

 like sheet lightning. We sailed through large 

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