OUR FIRST CALLING-PLACE. 99 



easterly run is over, and you are bound to the northward 

 again. Soon the south-east trades will take you gently 

 in hand, and waft you pleasurably upward to the line 

 again, unless you sliould be so unfortunate as to meet 

 one of the devastating meteors known as " cyclones " 

 in its gyration across the Indian Ocean. After losing 

 the trade, which signals your approach to the line once 

 more, your guides fluctuate muchly with the time of 

 year. But it may be broadly put that the change of 

 the monsoon in the Bay of Bengal is beastliness un- 

 adulterated, and the south-west monsoon itself, though 

 a fair wind for getting to your destination, is worse, 

 if possible. Still, having got that far, you are able to 

 judge pretty nearly when, in the ordinary course of 

 events, you will arrive at Saugor, and get a tug for the 

 rest of the journey. 



But on this strange voyage I was quite as much in 

 the dark concerning our approximate position as any 

 of the chaps who had never seen salt water before they 

 viewed it from the bad eminence of the Cachalot's deck. 

 Of course, it was evident that we were bound eastward, 

 but whether to the Indian seas or to the South Pacific, 

 , none knew but the skipper, and perhaps the mate. I say 

 ', *' perhaps " advisedly. In any well-regulated merchant 

 ship there is an invariable routine of observations 

 performed by both captain and chief officer, except in 

 very big vessels, where the second mate is appointed navi- 

 gating officer. The two men work out their reckoning 

 independently of each other, and compare the result, so 

 that an excellent check upon the accuracy of the positions 

 found is thereby afforded. Here, however, there might 

 not haye been, as far as appearances went, a navigator 

 in the ship except the captain, if it be not a misuse of 



