ST. THOMAS. 
21 
the sailmaker, the smith, the armourer are all at work. Here a weather-worn tar is cutting 
out a useful garment upon the clean white boards ; there a sailor boy is untwisting ropes or 
manufacturing swabs. Behind a canvas screen the schoolmaster is teaching youngsters how 
to spell and cipher, or is preparing them for the degree of A.B. Forward, one hears the 
cackling of poultry and the bleating of sheep ; while from unknown regions below comes the 
grunt of a trombone or the shrill sound of a piccolo—it is Jack, turned amateur musician, 
practising the “Blue Danube” waltz. Suddenly the bugle sounds to quarters, and in the 
twinkling of an eye the peaceful scene has put on the grim features of the God of War. Jack 
is at his post, ready to shake the air with the thunder of his big guns ; the marines crowd 
the after-deck, and blaze away at an imaginary enemy. Such is life afloat when the skies 
are blue and the wind is fair. 
On March the 2nd, when in about lat. 22 0 30' N., long. 42 0 W., we observed the 
first patches of Gulf-weed, whose golden yellow contrasts agreeably with the colour of the 
water. Floating in the shape of solitary bunches, or congregating in large masses which 
cover the surrounding sea, this weed gives shelter to a multitude of animals—fishes, crustaceans, 
&c.—which make it their home. What is still more remarkable is that most of these animals 
imitate the colour of the weed, especially a small crab found in great abundance. The 
colouring of its shell reproduces every tint, from the light yellow to the dark brown of the 
leaves, and even suggests by light spots the whitish berry characteristic of the Gulf-weed, so 
that its presence in a bunch is not suspected until it begins to stir. 
March the nth was rendered memorable by the first sounding obtained in 3000 fathoms, 
nearly three and a-half English miles. The specimen of the bottom brought up proved to 
be a dark chocolate-coloured mud, ice-cold, very tenacious, and so fine that, on being rubbed 
between the fingers, there was not the least trace of grittiness. We had learned to associate 
this sediment, already obtained in previous soundings, with depths exceeding 2000 fathoms; 
as the samples of bottom brought up from lesser depths were generally found to consist of 
a whitish ooze, almost entirely composed of minute calcareous and siliceous shells, so small 
as to be only distinguishable under the microscope. 
At daybreak of March the 15th, land was reported from the mast-head. We had been 
shaping our course for Sombrero, a small uninhabited island which marks the point where 
the chain of the West Indian Islands turns to the westward. In the course of the day we entered 
the Caribbean Sea between Sombrero and Anguilla, visible on the southern horizon, and on 
the following morning our good ship lay safely anchored in Gregarie Channel, a sort of outer 
harbour to Charlotte Amalia, the capital of St. Thomas. 
ST. THOMAS. 
The town, with its red-tiled roofs and old fort surmounted by the Danish flag, lies cosily 
embosomed among green hills, and its general neatness and cleanliness proclaim the influence 
of a northern race. Looking through the glass, we saw objects resembling white bundles 
