36 



THE SEA. 



They go to bed at San Francisco, and never leave their berths till they reach their desti- 

 nation. You never see one of them on deck. The sailors, having done their duty, dis- 

 appear likewise. And how easy that duty is in such weather ! On leaving the Golden 

 Gate the sails were hoisted, and have remained untouched ever since. The breeze is just 

 strong enough to fill them and keep us steady. The result is a complete calm. The 

 smoke ascends up to heaven in a straight line. So the sailors have a fine time of it. 



LEAVING THE COAST OF CALIFORNIA. 



They sleep, smoke, or play down-stairs with their companions. The two men at the helm 

 these two are Americans are equally invisible, for a watch-tower hides them from sight, 

 as well as the rudder and the officer of the watch. I have thus got the deck of this 

 immense ship entirely to myself. I pace it from one end to the other, four hundred feet 

 backwards and forwards. The only impediment is a transverse bar of iron, as high as 

 one's head, which binds in the middle the two sides of the ship. It is painted white, 

 like all the rest, and is difficult to see. In every position in life there is always the worm 

 in the bud or thorn in the flesh or, at any rate, some dark spot. On board the China 

 the dark spot for me is that detestable white bar. Not only am I perpetually knocking 



