To California 
way to New York and our able little vessel was 
drenched all day long. Of course our load of 
oranges suffered, and since they were boarded 
over level with the rail, we had difficulty in 
walking and had many chances of being washed 
overboard. The flying fishes off Cape Hatteras 
appeared to take pleasure in shooting across 
from wave-top to wave-top. They avoided the 
ship during the day, but frequently fell among 
the oranges at night. The sailors caught many, 
but our big Newfoundland dog jumped for them 
faster than the sailors, and so almost monop- 
olized the game. 
When dark night fell on the stormy sea, the 
breaking waves of phosphorescent light were a 
glorious sight. On such nights I stood on the 
bowsprit holding on by a rope for hours in order 
to enjoy this phenomenon. How wonderful 
this light is! Developed in the sea by myriads 
of organized beings, it gloriously illuminates the 
pathways of the fishes, and every breaking 
wave, and in some places glows over large areas 
like sheet lightning. We sailed through large 
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