THE HAPPIEST DAY OF ALL 



swam within a harpoon's throw of my hand while 

 pelicans in our path waited till the Irene was 

 within its length of them before starting on their 

 heavy flight. Birds, both land and water, showed 

 strange fearlessness. A passing red-bird lit up- 

 on the masthead and sang joyfully to us, while a 

 stray chuck-will's-widow, bird of the night, 

 dropped within reach of my hand and rested on 

 the deck in the shadow of the furled jib. Man- 

 o'-war hawks swooped under our counter to col- 

 lect the scraps thrown overboard by Joe and one 

 even touched with its bill a fish that was held out 

 to it. Several tern that were fishing near us lit 

 on the cabin to rest and ate of the food pushed 

 toward them, while one in payment for his dinner 

 sat on my outstretched finger and posed for the 

 Camera-man. 



The little breeze died out, but I couldn't de- 

 stroy the delicious peace of the day by the noisy 

 churning of the propeller and for an hour we 

 drifted. The time might have been better em- 

 ployed, for when black clouds piled up in the 

 southwest and a heavy squall tore up the water 

 as it bore down on us, it was too late to find the 

 shelter we needed. Every sail was furled and 



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