260 THE OCEAN. 
call of “Sail: ho!’ has an electric effect: all the 
telescopes on board are soon pointed towards her; 
her rig, her canvas, her direction, the force of wind 
she has, the tack she is on, if “by the wind,” are 
all carefully scrutinized and commented on. If, the 
courses of the two vessels, and their positions, are 
such that they will approach very near to each other, 
they will “speak,” as a matter of course; but there 
are few commanders so churlish as not to submit 
to a slight deviation of their course in order to com- 
municate with another. Perhaps the stranger is 
seen directly astern, following right in the wake, a 
circumstance which, as far as my own observation 
extends, commonly excites a slight feeling of un- 
easiness, and a more than usual attention to her ap- 
pearance, powers of sailing, &c. Though the reason 
assures one that the occurrence of a ship in that 
particular direction, is as likely as in any other 
quarter, yet the mind will recur to the idea of pur- 
suit, and thoughts of walking the plank, or hanging 
at the yard-arm, will crowd up to the imagination, 
especially if the locality happen to be the West 
Indies, or the Spanish Main, or any other sea ha- 
bitually infested with pirates. But as she gains 
a greater nearness, her hull and rig indicate her to 
be a peaceful trader, and presently the bunting is 
run up to the peak, and the folds of England’s fair 
ensign flow out upon the breeze. The approach 
of a vessel is always a pleasing sight; her graceful 
movements, as she bounds over the waves, the white 
foam rolling up under her bows, her taper masts 
and spars, the elegant curves which the breeze gives 
