CHAPTEE XI. 
THE STORMY PETREL 
(Thalassidroma pelagica ). 
“ Up and down ! lip and down ! 
From the base of the wave to the billow’s crown, 
And amidst the flashing and feathery foam, 
The Stormy Petrel finds a home,— 
A home, if such a place may be, 
For her who lives on the wide wide sea, 
On the craggy ice, in the frozen air, 
And only seeketh her rocky lair 
To warm her young, and to teach them spring 
At once o’er the waves on their stormy wing! ” 
Barry Cornwall. 
The ship drives before the raging storm. Darkness, 
like that of night, covers the sea, though it is mid-day: 
all colours seem merged into a neutral gray; the flashing 
foam on the crest of the billow, driven like white dust by 
the merciless gale, forms the one single particle of light 
in the otherwise dark picture. 
Close under the ship’s stern a dusky flock may be seen, 
swooping and skimming hither and thither. Ten or 
fifteen dark little birds sink from the crest down into the 
trough of the sea formed by the labouring vessel: these 
are “Mother Carey’s chickens,” the “water-witches,” 
Stormy Petrels, which are so familiar to, the eye of the 
sailor, and the sight of which he dreads so much; Father 
Neptune’s darlings, the smallest bird cradled on his 
