THE PACIFIC OCEAN. 261 
to her running rigging, the white, plump sails, belly- 
ing from the wind, are all beautiful; if she is to 
windward, her clean white decks are visible as she 
lies over, the crew collected in the waist, or about 
the bows, the officers and passengers assembled on 
the quarter-deck, gazing with equal curiosity to our 
own, upon our appearance; the captain standing 
with his speaking-trumpet in his hand ready to seize 
the moment of nearest approach. He raises his 
trumpet to his mouth—‘Ship ahoy!” “ Hilloa!” 
“What ship is that, pray? Where are you from? 
Where are you bound? How long are you out? 
What’s your longitude?” These and similar ques- 
tions are mutually asked and answered, each reply 
bging acknowledged by a slight motion of the trum- 
pet in the. air. If there be opportunity, the pre- 
vailing character of the winds with each, the pros- 
pects of the voyage, the state of the respective 
crews, and other nautical subjects, are interchanged ; 
but usually the time afforded for speaking by the 
vessels remaining within hail, is very brief, and they 
again diverge, and soon are lost to each other below 
the horizon. Very often, from the sighing of the 
wind among the cordage, the working of the ship, 
thé ripple and splash at her side, as well as from 
distance, while the questions from being so much 
in course, are perfectly intelligible, the answers are 
almost inaudible, and can sometimes only be guessed 
at, the consonants being entirely lost, and the vowel- 
sounds alone heard. This will explain a laughable 
incident which took place a few years ago, on the 
