104 TRIUMPH OF THE WING. 
it, according to his belief, a living curse. Whence does it come? 
How is it able to rise at such enormous distances from all land ? 
What wills it? What does it come in quest of, if not of a wreck ? 
It sweeps to and fro impatiently, and already selects the corpses 
which its accomplice, the atrocious and iniquitous sea, will soon 
deliver up to its mercies. 
Such are the fables of fear. Less panic-stricken minds would see 
in the poor bird another ship in distress, an imprudent navigator, 
which has also been surprised far from shore and without an asylum. 
Our vessel is for him an island, where he would fain repose. The 
track of the barque, which rides through both wind and wave, is in 
itself a refuge, a succour against fatigue. Incessantly, with nimble 
flight, he places the rampart of the vessel between himself and the 
tempest. Timid and short-sighted, you see it only when it brings 
the night. Like ourselves, it dreads the storm—it trembles with 
fear—it would fain escape—and like you, O seaman, it sighs, “ What 
will become of my little ones ?” 
But the black hour passes, day reappears, and I see a small blue 
point in the heaven. Happy and serene region, which has rested in 
peace far above the hurricane! In that blue point, and at an elevation 
of ten thousand feet, royally floats a little bird with enormous pens. 
A gull? No; its wings are black. An eagle? No; the bird is too 
small. 
It is the little ocean-eagle, first and chief of the winged race, the 
daring navigator who never furls his sails, the lord of the tempest, . 
the scorner of all peril—the man-of-war or frigate-bird. 
We have reached the culminating point of the series commenced 
by the wingless bird. Here we have a bird which is virtually nothing 
more than wings: scarcely any body—hbarely as large as that of the 
domestic cock—while his prodigious pinions are fifteen feet in span. 
The great problem of flight is solved and overpassed, for the power of 
flight seems useless. Such a bird, naturally sustained by such sup- 
ports, need but allow himself to be borne along. The storm bursts ; 
he mounts to lofty heights, where he finds tranquillity. The poetic 
a! 
