equatorial air has travelled some thirty or forty degrees of latitude
along the upper regions of the atmosphere towards the poles it becomes
cooled, and is ready to descend again, between the latitudes of 30 deg.
and 60 deg., to supply the place of the lower air, drawn off towards the
equator by the Trade-winds. But this partially-cooled air falls on a
part of the earth's surface which is moving much more slowly towards
the east, in its diurnal rotation, than the air which has descended
upon it, and which is still impressed with a great proportion of its
eastern velocity due to the equatorial parallels of latitude, where it
was heated and raised up. The necessary consequence of this is, to
produce a rapid motion in the air from the west over the earth's
surface; and this, combined with the other motion of the same portion
of air, or that which has driven it from the equatorial regions,
produces this remarkable prevalence of south-westerly winds in the
northern hemisphere, and north-westerly winds in the southern
hemisphere, in those districts lying between the latitudes of 30 deg. and
60 deg..

In all that has been said above it has been assumed that the
quickest-moving or equatorial belt of the earth is also the hottest,
and consequently that over which the air has the greatest tendency to
rise. But, although this is generally true, it is not, by any means,
universally so. The variations, however, which are observed to occur
in those places where the circumstances form an exception to the
general rule, tend strongly to confirm the theory of Hadley. The
monsoons of India, as I shall presently show, are examples of this;
but the most striking instance with which I am personally acquainted
occurs in the Pacific Ocean, between the Bay of Panama and the
Peninsula of California, from latitude 8 deg. to 22 deg. north. If the huge
continent of Mexico were taken away, and only sea left in its place,
there can be no doubt but the ordinary phenomena of the Trade-winds
would be observable in that part of the Pacific above mentioned. Cool
air would then be drawn from the slow moving parallels lying to the
northward, towards the swift moving latitudes, near the equator, in
order to supply the place of the rarefied air removed to the higher
regions of the atmosphere, and, of course, north-easterly breezes
would be produced. But when the sun comes over Mexico, that vast
district of country is made to act the part of an enormous heater, and
becomes a far more powerful cause of rarefaction to the superincumbent
air than the ocean which lies between it and the equator. Accordingly,
the air over Mexico, between the latitudes of 10 deg. and 30 deg., is more
heated than that which lies over the sea between the line and latitude
20 deg.; and as the coolest, or least heated, that is, the most dense
fluid, always rushes towards the place lately occupied by the hottest
and most buoyant, the air from the equator will be drawn towards the
coast of Mexico, the great local source of heat and rarefaction.

But as this equatorial air is of course impressed with a more rapid
eastern velocity than those parts of the earth which form the southern
shores of Mexico, a westerly wind must be produced by the relative
difference in these two motions. At that particular season of the year
when the sun is in high southern declination, Mexico is not exposed to
his perpendicular rays. The equatorial regions are then more heated
than Mexico, and accordingly we actually find north-easterly breezes
nearly as they would be if Mexico were out of the way, and quite in
accordance with our theory.

In like manner, in the Atlantic, when the sun is far to the north,
the great deserts of the western angle, or shoulder of Africa, become
as vehemently heated, or more so, perhaps, than Mexico, and this draws
the air from the equator, so as to produce the south-westerly winds I
have already spoken of in the troublesome range called the Variables.

Finally, the great monsoons of the Indian ocean and China sea
contribute to establish this theory of Hadley, though I am not aware
that he ever brought it to bear on these very interesting phenomena.
They are eminently deserving of such notice, however, from being
periodical Trade-winds of the highest order of utility in one of the
busiest commercial regions of the world. Their periodical or shifting
character is the circumstance upon which their extensive utility in a
great measure depends, amongst nations where the complicated science
of navigation is but in a rude state. Myriads of vessels sail from
their homes during one monsoon before the wind, or so nearly before
it, that there is no great skill required in reaching all the ports at
which they wish to touch; and when the wind shifts to the opposite
quarter, they steer back again, in like manner, with a flowing sheet.
Thus, with an exceedingly small portion of nautical skill, they
contrive to make their passages by means of what we blue-jackets call
"a soldier's wind, there and back again." It will sometimes happen
that these rude navigators miscalculate their time, or meet with
accidents to retard them till the period of change has gone past, and
then they have no resource but to wait for half-a-year till the
monsoon shifts.

Experienced sailors, in like circumstances, acquainted with the
varieties of winds prevailing in those seas, would speedily get their
vessels out of this scrape, into which the lubberly Chinese junks
sometimes fall. They might, and certainly would, lose time in making a
roundabout of some two or three hundred miles in searching for a wind;
but, if they really knew what they were about, they would be sure to
catch it at last, and to turn it to their purpose.

From April to October, when the sun's rays fall with greatest effect
on Arabia, India, and China, and the several interjacent seas to which
these immense countries give their name, the air in contact with them,
becoming heated, rises, and gives place to fresh supplies drawn from
the equator. But this equatorial mass of air has had imparted to it by
the earth's rotation a greater degree of velocity in the direction
from west to east than belongs to the countries and seas just
mentioned; and this additional velocity, combined with its motion from
the equator, in rushing to fill up the vacuum caused by the
rarefaction of the air over those regions intersected by the tropic,
causes the south-west monsoon. "This wind," says Horsburgh, "prevails
from April to October, between the equator and the tropic of Cancer,
and it reaches from the east coast of Africa to the coasts of India,
China, and the Philippine Islands; its influence extends sometimes
into the Pacific Ocean as far as the Marian Islands, on to longitude
about 145 deg. east, and it reaches as far north as the Japan Islands."

The late Captain Horsburgh thus describes what takes place in the
winter months:--"The north-east monsoon," he says, "prevails from
October to May, throughout nearly the same space that the south-west
monsoon prevails in the opposite season mentioned above. But the
monsoons are subject to great obstructions by land; and in contracted
places, such as Malacca Strait, they are changed into variable winds.
Their limits are not everywhere the same, nor do they always shift
exactly at the same period."

During this last named period, when the north-east monsoon is blowing,
viz. from October to May, the sun is acting with its greatest energy
on the regions about the equator, and the seas lying between it and
the southern tropic, while the countries formerly mentioned (Arabia,
India, and China), lying under the northern tropic, become
comparatively cool. The air over these regions becomes relatively more
dense than the rarefied air near the line; consequently the cool air
rushes to the southward to interchange places with that which has been
heated; and as the cool air comes from slower-moving to quicker-moving
parallels of latitude, that is, from the tropical to the equatorial
regions, the north-easterly monsoon is produced, very much resembling
in its effect, as it strictly does in its cause, the ordinary
trade-wind of the Atlantic and Pacific oceans.

This is a very general view of what may be called the great monsoons
of India; but there are many variations in different places, all of
which are so readily explained by the foregoing theory, that they form
by no means the least interesting branch of the subject, or the least
satisfactory of its illustrations.

One of the most extensive of these varieties, though of a less general
and sweeping character than those which blow in the Arabian sea and
bay of Bengal, is found in a very remote part of the world. "From
October to April this north-west monsoon prevails between the
north-east part of Madagascar and the west coast of New Holland; and
it is generally confined between the equator and 10 deg. or 11 deg. south
latitude, but subject to irregularities." This westerly wind is
evidently produced by the air drawn actually from the equator towards
the slower moving latitudes of the earth, by the rarefaction of the
air to the southward when the sun is near the tropic of Capricorn.
"The south-east monsoon predominates from April to October in the
space last mentioned, and in some places reaches to the equator." In
this case, the slow moving air near the southern tropic is brought, as
in the ordinary case of the south-east Trade wind, to the quick-moving
parts of the earth's surface.

The following remark of Horsburgh's, in describing the monsoons, is
extremely valuable, and assists to explain Hadley's theory of these
matters:--"The parts where the north-west and the south-east monsoons
prevail with greatest strength and regularity are in the Java sea, and
from thence eastward to Timor, amongst the Molucca and Banda islands,
and onward to New Guinea;" for it will be obvious to any one who
inspects the globe, on reading this passage, that there occurs in the
neighbourhood of the spots alluded to a powerful cause for the
strength and regularity of the monsoons. The enormous island, or
continent, as it might almost be called, of Australia, may well be
supposed to act the part of a heater from October to April, when the
sun is so nearly over it. During that period the equatorial air is
drawn to the south, along the intermediate seas, amongst the Moluccas
and other Spice islands, so as to produce a strong and steady
north-westerly monsoon. Of course, the opposite effect will be
produced when the sun retreats to the north, and leaves Australia to
cool.

These instances are quite enough, I should imagine, to satisfy
ordinary curiosity on this point; but professional men ought not to be
contented till they have investigated all branches of this important
topic; including that elegant and very useful episode, the land and
sea breezes of all hot climates, and Horsburgh's East India Directory,
which I have quoted above so frequently, is by far the best authority
with which I am acquainted on these subjects. At the same time, I must
not omit to do justice to a beautifully-written and accurate Essay on
Winds and Currents, by that Prince of all Voyagers, Old Dampier; who,
with means far more circumscribed than most of his successors, has
contrived to arrange and condense his information in such a way as not
only to render it available to practical men, but to make it
intelligible and interesting to every class of readers.[4]

FOOTNOTES:

[3] It is necessary to note here that these questions have been
examined since Captain Hall wrote, by Commander Maury, late secretary
to the American navy, in the true analytical spirit, and immense
progress made in our knowledge of these winds by the mass of practical
observations on the subject made by practical navigators, and
published under his directions.--ED.

[4] The principle of "Great Circle Sailing," which now guides the
navigator to the Indian Ocean, must be studied in connection with this
chapter. "For every degree the ship changes her longitude south of the
Line she sails a shorter distance along the great circle than on any
other curve; for on the parallel of 60 deg. thirty miles corresponds to a
distance of sixty at the equator."--ROBERTSON'S _Theory of Great
Circle Sailing_: Bell and Daldy.




CHAPTER VII.

PROGRESS OF THE VOYAGE.


Let people say what they please of the fine bracing weather of a cold
climate, I have never seen any truth-speaking persons who, on coming
fairly to the trial, did not complain of a cold frosty morning as a
very great nuisance, or who did not cling eagerly to the fire to
unbrace themselves again. For my own part, I have always delighted in
the relaxation caused by hot weather; and, accordingly, I have very
seldom, if ever, felt the weather disagreeably warm, even in India,
especially when sailing on the open sea, or enjoying the free range of
a wide country, under awnings and bungaloes, or stretched in a
palanquin, or shaded by an umbrella on the back of an elephant.
Soldiers and sailors, whose duty exposes them at all hours, either on
a march or in boats, are often struck down by the heat, and sigh with
all their hearts for the bracing frosts of higher latitudes. But those
who have the means of bringing to bear on their comforts the
innumerable contrivances which the ingenuity of wealth has devised in
the East, indeed, make its climate not only bearable, but one of the
most enjoyable in the world.

As we sailed along on our voyage to India, gradually slipping down
from the high to the low latitudes, the sun crept up higher and higher
every day towards the zenith, while the thermometer, of course, rose
likewise. What was most agreeable in this change from cold to warmth
was the little difference between the temperature of the day and that
of the night. As we approached the equator, the thermometer fell only
from 82 deg. in the day-time to 79 deg. or 80 deg. at night, which, on deck, was
delightful. We did not, of course, come to this high temperature all
at once; for on the 6th of May, the day after we passed directly under
the sun, the average of the twenty-four hours was 73 deg., and at night
69 deg. and 70 deg..

It is not to be imagined that everyone was pleased with these changes;
for on board ship, as on shore, there exist discontented spirits,
whose acquired habit it is to find fault with the existing state of
things, be these what they may. To such cantankerous folks a growl of
misery would really seem to be the great paradoxical happiness of
their lives, and, in the absence of real hardship, it is part of your
thorough-bred growler to prophesy. I have seen a middy of this stamp
glad to find, on coming below, that some insignificant portion of his
dinner really had been devoured by his hungry messmates, while he
himself was keeping his watch on deck.

"I am used worse than a dog!" he would cry, secretly delighted to have
gained the luxury of a grievance, "I can't even get a basin of
pease-soup put by for me; it's an infernal shame, I'll cut the
service!"

The diversity of climate on an Indian voyage furnishes capital nuts
for these perturbed spirits. It is first too cold, then too hot; then
there is not wind enough; then it blows too fresh in the squalls:
by-and-bye the nights are discovered to be abominably close and
sultry, and in the day the fierce flaming downright heat of the sun is
still worse; then the calms are never to be over; or the lying trades,
as they call them, have got capsized, and blow from the west instead
of the east! After the line has been crossed, and the south-east wind
is met with, the weather soon becomes what these ingenious fellows
call too temperate, then it grows too cold again; and next off the
Cape the latitude is too stormy. In this alone they have some reason;
and I have often regretted that, by a royal ordinance of the King of
Portugal, the name of this mighty promontory was changed from Cabo de
Tormentos, the headland of storms, to its present spoony title. In
short, this grand voyage is merely a peristrephic panorama of
miseries, which if they survive, say they, it will be happy for
them.--Happy! Not a whit. It is out of their nature to be happy. To
find fault, to fling away the good the gods provide them, and to
aggravate the pain of every real wound by the impatience of idle
complaints, is their diseased joy. "Evil, be thou my good!" they might
well exclaim; for, instead of heightening the pleasures of life by
full participation, or subduing its inevitable evils, or, at all
events, softening their asperity by enduring with fortitude and
cheerfulness what cannot be helped, these self-tormentors reject what
is substantially pleasing, and cling with habitual but morbid relish
to whatever is disagreeable.

As we glided along, through the Trade-winds, towards the neck of sea
which divides Africa from South America, the symptoms of a change in
climate became daily more manifest. Every skylight and stern window
was thrown wide open, and every cabin scuttle driven out, that a free
draught of air might sweep through the ship all night long. In the
day-time, the pitch in the seams of the upper-deck began to melt, and,
by sticking to the soles of our shoes, plastered the planks, to the
great discomfiture of the captain of the after-guard. The tar, oozing
from the cordage aloft, dropped on our heads, speckled the snow white
boat covers, and obliged us to spread the hammock-cloths, to prevent
the bedding being ruined by the spots. On the larboard or eastern side
of the ship, which, of course, is always presented to the sun when
crossing the Trades on the outward-bound voyage, the pitch and rosin
with which the seams had been payed ran down in little streams across
the lines of paint. To prevent, as far as we could, some of these
annoyances, we spread the awnings over the decks, and triced up the
curtains, fore and aft, while every art was used to introduce air to
all parts of the ship. The half-ports were removed from the main-deck
guns, the gratings put on one side, and as many windsails sent down
the hatchways as could be made to catch a puff of air. Blue trousers
and beaver scrapers soon gave way before the elements, and were
succeeded by nankeens, straw hats, and canvas caps. In the captain's
cabin, where the presence of the governor, our passenger, still kept
up the strait-laced etiquette of the service, coats and epaulettes
appeared at dinner; but in the gun-room, the officers, the instant
they came below, slipped on their light white jackets, and, disdaining
waistcoat, seized their flutes and books, and drew their chairs as
near as possible to the mouth of the windsail. In the midshipmen's
berth, outside in the steerage, the shirt without neckcloth or stock,
and sometimes with its sleeves rolled up to the elbows, was the most
fashionable rig. The seamen and marines, of course, dined on the
main-deck, not only that they might enjoy the fresh air breathing
gently in upon them through the ports on the weather side, and
sweeping out again by those to leeward, but that the lower deck might
be kept as cool and airy as possible against the sultry feverish night
season.

On such occasions the men leave their tables and stools below, and
either seat themselves tailor-fashion, or recline Roman-fashion. Nor
is this in the least degree unpleasant; for the deck of a man-of-war
is made as clean every morning as any table, and is kept so during the
day by being swept at least once an hour. Of all the tunes played by
the boatswain's pipe, that which calls the sweepers is the most
frequently heard. When the order is given for dining on deck, the
different messes into which the crew are divided occupy the spots
immediately above their usual mess-places below, as far as the guns
allow of their doing so. It has always struck me as very pleasing, to
see the main-deck covered, from the after hatchway to the cook's
coppers, with the people's messes, enjoying their noon-day repast;
while the celestial grog, with which their hard, dry, salt junk is
washed down, out-matches twenty-fold in Jack's estimation all the thin
potations of those who, in no very courteous language, are called
their betters.

Until we had crossed the North-east Trade, and reached the Calms, the
ship's way through the water was too great to allow of bathing
alongside; but we easily contrived a shower-bath, which answered very
well. This consisted of a packing-box, the bottom of which was
perforated with holes, triced up between two of the skids, near the
gangway, and under the quarter of one of the boats on the booms. A
couple of the top-men with draw-buckets supplied the water from above,
while the bather stood on the main-deck, enjoying the shower. The time
selected for this delightful bath was usually about four o'clock in
the morning, after the middle watch was out, and before the exhausted
officer tumbled into bed. A four hours' walk, indeed, in a sultry
night, be it managed ever so gently, has a tendency to produce a
degree of heat approaching to feverishness; and I have no words to
describe the luxury of standing under a cool shower when the long task
is ended. We were generally just enough fatigued to be sure of a
sound, light, happy sleep, and just enough heated to revel in the
coolest water that was to be had. In fact, we found that of the sea
much too warm, being only two or three degrees below the temperature
of the air. To remedy this, our plan was, to expose a dozen
buckets-full on the gangway at eight or nine o'clock in the evening;
and these, being allowed to stand till morning, became so much cooler
by the evaporation in the night, that the shock was unspeakably
grateful.

Perhaps there is not any more characteristic evidence of our being
within the tropical regions than the company of those picturesque
little animals, the flying-fish. It is true, that a stray one or two
may sometimes be met with far north, making a few short skips out of
the water, and I even remember seeing several close to the edge of the
banks of Newfoundland, in latitude 45 deg.; but it is not until the
voyager has fairly reached the heart of the torrid zone that he sees
the flying-fish in perfection. I have hardly ever observed a person so
dull or unimaginative that his eye did not glisten as he watched a
shoal of flying-fish rise from the sea, and skim along for several
hundred yards. There is something in it so totally dissimilar to
everything else in other parts of the world, that our wonder goes on
increasing every time we see even a single one take its flight. The
incredulity of the old Scotch woman on this head is sufficiently
excusable. "You may hae seen rivers o' milk, and mountains o' sugar,"
said she to her son, returned from a voyage; "but you'll ne'er gar me
believe you have seen a fish that could flee!"

The pleasant Trade, which had wafted us with different degrees of
velocity, over a distance of more than a thousand miles, at last
gradually failed. The sails began to flap gently against the masts, so
gently, indeed, that we half hoped it was caused, not so much by the
diminished force of the breeze, with which we wore very unwilling to
part, as by that long and peculiar swell which,

"In the torrid clime
Dark heaving,"

is productive of oscillating motion on the ship; but the faint
zephyrs, which had coquetted with our languid sails for an hour or
two, at length took their leave, first of the courses, then of the
topsails, and lastly of the royals and the smaller flying kites
aloft. In vain we looked round and round the horizon for some traces
of a return of our old friend the Trade, but could distinguish nothing
save one polished, dark-heaving sheet of glass, reflecting the
unbroken disc of the sun, and the bright clear sky in the moving
mirror beneath. From the heat, which soon became intense, there was no
escape, either on deck or below, aloft in the tops, or still higher on
the cross-trees; neither could we find relief down in the hold; for it
was all the same, except that in the exposed situations we were
scorched or roasted, in the others suffocated. The useless helm was
lashed amidships, the yards were lowered on the cap, and the boats
were dropped into the water, to fill up the cracks and rents caused by
the fierce heat. The occasion was taken advantage of to shift some of
the sails, and to mend others; most of the running-ropes also were
turned end for end. A listless feeling stole over us all, and we lay
about the decks gasping for breath, seeking in vain some alleviation
to our thirst by drink! drink! drink! Alas, the transient indulgence
only made the matter worse!

Meanwhile, our convoy of huge China ships, rolling very slowly on the
top of the long, smooth, and scarcely perceptible ridges, or sinking
as gently between their summits, were scattered in all directions,
with their heads in different ways, some looking homeward again, and
some, as if by instinct, keeping still for the south. How it happens I
do not know, but on occasions of perfect calm, or such as appear to be
perfectly calm, the ships of a fleet generally drift away from one
another; so that, at the end of a few hours, the whole circle bounded
by the horizon is speckled over with these unmanageable hulks, as they
may for the time be considered. It will occasionally happen, indeed,
that two ships draw so near in a calm as to incur some risk of falling
on board one another. I need scarcely mention, that, even in the
smoothest water ever found in the open sea, two large ships coming
into actual contact must prove a formidable encounter. As long as they
are apart their gentle and rather graceful movements are fit subjects
of admiration; and I have often seen people gazing, for an hour at a
time, at the ships of a becalmed fleet, slowly twisting round,
changing their position, and rolling from side to side, as silently as
if they had been in harbour, or accompanied only by the faint,
rippling sound tripping along the water-line, as the copper below the
bends alternately sunk into the sea, or rose out of it, dripping wet,
and shining as bright and clean as a new coin, from the constant
friction of the ocean during the previous rapid passage across the
Trade-winds.

But all this picturesque admiration changes to alarm when ships come
so close as to risk a contact; for these motions, which appear so slow
and gentle to the eye, are irresistible in their force; and as the
chances are against the two vessels moving exactly in the same
direction at the same moment, they must speedily grind or tear one
another to pieces. Supposing them to come in contact side by side, the
first roll would probably tear away the fore and main channels of both
ships; the next roll, by interlacing the lower yards, and entangling
the spars of one ship with the shrouds and backstays of the other,
would in all likelihood bring down all three masts of both ships, not
piecemeal, as the poet hath it, but in one furious crash. Beneath the
ruins of the spars, the coils of rigging, and the enormous folds of
canvas, might lie crushed many of the best hands, who, from being
always the foremost to spring forward in such seasons of danger, are
surest to be sacrificed. After this first catastrophe, the ships would
probably drift away from one another for a little while, only to
tumble together again and again, till they had ground one another to
the water's edge, and one or both of them would fill and go down. In
such encounters it is impossible to stop the mischief, and oak and
iron break, and crumble in pieces, like sealing-wax and pie-crust.
Many instances of such accidents are on record, but I never witnessed
one.

To prevent these frightful _rencontres_ care is always taken to hoist
out the boats in good time, if need be, to tow the ships apart, or,
what is generally sufficient, to tow the ships' heads in opposite
directions. I scarcely know why this should have the effect, but
certainly it appears that, be the calm ever so complete, or dead, as
the term is, a vessel generally forges ahead, or steals along
imperceptibly in the direction she is looking to; possibly from the
conformation of the hull.

Shortly after the Trade-wind left us, a cloud rose in the south, which
soon filled the whole air, and discharged upon us the most furious
shower I ever beheld. The rain fell down in perpendicular lines of
drops, or spouts, without a breath of wind, unaccompanied by thunder
or any other noise, and in one great gush or splash, as if some
prodigious reservoir had been upset over the fleet from the edge of
the cloud.

Our noble commander, delighted with the opportunity of replenishing
his stock of water, called out, "Put shot on each side, and slack all
the stops down, so that the awnings may slope inwards. Get buckets and
empty casks to hand instantly!"

In a few minutes the awnings were half full of water, and a hole
connected with a hose having been prepared beforehand near the lowest
point, where the canvas was weighed down by the shot, a stream
descended as if a cock had been turned. Not a drop of this was lost;
but being carried off, it was poured into a starting-tub at the
hatchway, and so conveyed by a pipe to the casks in the hold. By the
time the squall was over we had filled six or eight butts; and
although not good to drink, from being contaminated by the tar from
the ropes and sails, the water answered admirably for washing, which
was our object in catching it.

Ever since the days of Captain Cook it has been the practice to allow
the crew two washing days per week, on the details of which proceeding
we all know the misery of putting on wet clothes, or sleeping in damp
sheets. Now, a shirt washed in salt water is really a great deal worse
than either; putting on linen washed in salt water, you first dry your
unhappy shirt by exposing it to the sun or the fire till it seems as
free from moisture as any bone; you then put it on, in hopes of
enjoying the benefit of clean linen. Alas, not a whit of enjoyment
follows! For if the air be in a humid state, or you are exposed to
exercise, the treacherous salt, which, when crystallised, has hidden
itself in the fibres of the cloth, speedily melts, and you have all
the tortures of being once more wrapped in moist drapery. In your
agony, you pull it off, run to the galley-range, and toast it over
again; or you hang it up in the fiery heat of the southern sun, and
when not a particle of wet seems to remain, you draw it on a second
time, fancying your job at last complete. But, miserable man that you
are! the insidious enemy still lurks there, and no art we yet know of
will expel him, save and except that of a good sound rinsing in fresh
water.

I need scarcely add, then, that there are few favours of the minor
kind which a considerate captain may bestow on his crew more
appreciated than giving them as much fresh water as will serve to
carry off the abominable salt from their clothes, after they have
first been well scoured in the water of the ocean; it is a great
comfort, and an officer of any activity, by a judicious management of
the ship's regular stock, and, above all, by losing no opportunity of
catching rain water, need seldom be without the means of giving to
each man of his crew a gallon twice a-week during the longest voyage.

It was from an old and excellent officer I first learned, that, by
proper and constant care, this indulgence might almost always be
granted. It is not easy, I freely admit, at all times, and in all
climates, to keep a supply Of washing-water on board. But a captain
ought to do what is right and kind, simply because it is right and
kind, regardless of trouble; and his conduct in this respect should
not be uninfluenced by the manner in which it is received; at all
events, he may be certain that if his favours be not well received,
the fault lies in his manner of giving them. Sailors have the most
acute penetration possible on these occasions; and if the captain be
actuated by any wish except that of doing his duty uniformly and
kindly, the Johnnies will see through it all, and either laugh at him
or hate him.




CHAPTER VIII.

AQUATIC SPORTS.


One day, after we had lost the north-east Trade wind, a furious
squall, unperceived till it reached us, swept through the fleet. These
violent tornadoes are generally called white squalls, from being
unattended by those black heavy rain clouds. On the occasion of
ordinary squalls, even with the advantage of the warning given by
rising clouds, it is not always easy to escape their force unhurt. If
the wind be fair, a natural reluctance is felt to shorten sail, at all
events, until the squall is so near that there is an absolute
necessity for doing so, and inexperienced officers are often deceived
by the unexpected velocity with which the gust comes down upon them.
Even the oldest sailors are apt to miscalculate the time likely to
elapse before the wind can touch them. In these cases, unless the men
be very active, the sails are torn, and sometimes a mast or a yard is
carried away. It is, besides, often doubtful whether there is wind or
merely a plump of rain in the squall; there are, therefore, few points
of distinction more remarkable between the seamanship of an old and a
young officer, than their power of judging of this matter. To a man
quite inexperienced, a squall may look in the highest degree
threatening; he will order the top-gallant clew-lines to be manned,
place hands by the topsail haulyards, and lay along the main
clew-garnets. His more experienced captain, however, being apprised of
the squall's approach, steps on deck, takes a hasty look to windward,
and says quietly to the officer of the watch, "Never mind, there's
nothing in it, it's only rain; keep the sails on her."

But although the older authority nine times in ten proves correct in
his judgment, even he might find it difficult, if not impossible, to
tell exactly upon what his confidence rested. Sailors boast, indeed,
of having an infallible test by which the point in question may be
ascertained, their secret being clothed in the following rhymes so to
call them:--

"If the rain's before the wind,
'Tis time to take the topsails in;
If the wind's before the rain,
Hoist your topsails up again."

The practical knowledge alluded to, however, comes not by rhymes, but
by experience alone, with a kind of intuitive confidence. Many long
and hard years of study, and myriads of forgotten trials must have
been gone through to give this enviable knowledge.

No experience, however, can altogether guard against these sudden
gusts or white squalls, since they make no show, except, sometimes, by
a rippling of the water along which they are sweeping. On the occasion
above alluded to there was not even this faint warning. The first
ships of the convoy touched by the blast were laid over almost on
their beam-ends, but in the next instant righted again, on the whole
of their sails being blown clean out of the bolt-ropes. The Theban
frigate and the Volage, then lying nearly in the centre of the fleet,
were the only ships which saved an inch of canvas, owing chiefly to
our having so many more hands on board, but partly to our having
caught sight of the ruin brought on the vessels near us, just in time
to let fly the sheets and haulyards and get the yards down. But even
then, with the utmost exertion of every man and boy on board, we
barely succeeded in clewing all up.

When this hurricane of a moment had passed, and we had time to look
round, not a rag was to be seen in the whole fleet; while the Wexford,
a ship near us, had lost her three top-gallant masts and jib-boom,
and, what was a much more serious misfortune, her fore-topmast was
dangling over the bows. Part of the fore-topsail was wrapped like a
shawl round the lee cat-head, while the rest hung down in festoons
from the collar of the fore-stay to the spritsail yard-arm. A stout
party of seamen from each of the men-of-war were sent to assist in
clearing the wreck, and getting up fresh spars; and a light fair wind
having succeeded to the calm in which we had been lolling about for
many days, we took our wounded bird in tow, and made all sail towards
the equator. By this time, also, the China ships had bent a new set of
sails, and were resuming their old stations in the appointed order of
bearing, which it was our policy to keep up strictly, together with as
many other of the formalities of a fleet in line of battle and on a
cruise as we could possibly maintain.

While we were thus stealing along pleasantly enough under the genial
influence of this newly-found air, which as yet was confined to the
upper sails, and every one was looking open-mouthed to the eastward to
catch a gulp of cool air, or was congratulating his neighbour on
getting rid of the tiresome calm in which we had been so long
half-roasted, half-suffocated, about a dozen flying-fish rose out of
the water, just under the fore-chains, and skimmed away to windward at
the height of ten or twelve feet above the surface. But sometimes the
flying-fish merely skims the surface, so as to touch the tops of the
successive waves, without rising and falling to follow the undulations
of the sea; that they also rise as high as twenty feet out of the
water is certain, being sometimes found in the channels of a
line-of-battle ship; and they frequently fly into a 74 gun-ship's
main-deck ports. On a frigate's forecastle and gangways, also
elevations which may be taken at eighteen or twenty feet, they are
often found. I remember seeing one, about nine inches in length, and
weighing not less, I should suppose, than half-a-pound, skim into the
Volage's main-deck port just abreast of the gangway. One of the
main-topmen was coming up the quarter-deck ladder at the moment, when
the flying-fish, entering the port, struck the astonished mariner on
the temple, knocked him off the step, and very nearly laid him
sprawling.

I was once in a prize, a low Spanish schooner, not above two feet and
a-half out of the water, when we used to pick up flying-fish enough
about the decks in the morning to give us a capital breakfast. They
are not unlike whitings to the taste, though rather firmer, and very
dry. They form, I am told, a considerable article of food for the
negroes in the harbours of the West Indies. The method of catching
them at night is thus described:--In the middle of the canoe a light
is placed on the top of a pole, towards which object it is believed
these fish always dart, while on both sides of the canoe a net is
spread to a considerable distance, supported by out-riggers above the
surface of the water; the fish dash at the light, pass it, and fall
into the net on the other side.

Shortly after observing the cluster of flying-fish rise out of the
water, we discovered two or three dolphins ranging past the ship, in
all their beauty, and watched with some anxiety to see one of those
aquatic chases of which our friends of the Indiamen had been telling
us such wonderful stories. We had not long to wait; for the ship, in
her progress through the water, soon put up another shoal of these
little things, which, as the others had done, took their flight
directly to windward. A large dolphin, which had been keeping company
with us abreast of the weather gangway at the depth of two or three
fathoms, and, as usual, glistening most beautifully in the sun, no
sooner detected our poor dear little friends take wing, than he turned
his head towards them, and, darting to the surface, leaped from the
water with a velocity little short, as it seemed, of a cannon-ball.
But although the impetus with which he shot himself into the air gave
him an initial velocity greatly exceeding that of the flying-fish, the
start which his fated prey had got enabled them to keep ahead of him
for a considerable time.

The length of the dolphin's first spring could not be less than ten
yards; and after he fell we could see him gliding like lightning
through the water for a moment, when he again rose, and shot forwards
with considerably greater velocity than at first, and, of course, to a
still greater distance. In this manner the merciless pursuer seemed to
stride along the sea with fearful rapidity, while his brilliant coat
sparkled and flashed in the sun quite splendidly. As he fell headlong
on the water at the end of each huge leap, a series of circles were
sent far over the still surface, which lay as smooth as a mirror; for
the breeze, although enough to keep the royals and top-gallant
studding sails extended, was hardly as yet felt below.

The group of wretched flying-fish, thus hotly pursued, at length
dropped into the sea; but we were rejoiced to observe that they merely
touched the top of the swell, and scarcely sunk in it, at least they
instantly set off again in a fresh and even more vigorous flight. It
was particularly interesting to observe that the direction they now
took was quite different from the one in which they had set out,
implying but too obviously that they had detected their fierce enemy,
who was following them with giant steps along the waves, and now
gaining rapidly upon them. His terrific pace, indeed, was two or three
times as swift as theirs, poor little things! and the greedy dolphin
was fully as quick-sighted as the flying-fish which were trying to
elude him; for whenever they varied their flight in the smallest
degree, he lost not the tenth part of a second in shaping a new
course, so as to cut off the chase; while they, in a manner really not
unlike that of the hare, doubled more than once upon their pursuer.
But it was soon too plainly to be seen that the strength and
confidence of the flying-fish were fast ebbing. Their flights became
shorter and shorter, and their course more fluttering and uncertain,
while the enormous leaps of the dolphin appeared to grow only more
vigorous at each bound. Eventually, indeed, we could see, or fancied
we could see, that this skilful sea sportsman arranged all his springs
with such an assurance of success, that he contrived to fall, at the
end of each, just under the very spot on which the exhausted
flying-fish were about to drop! Sometimes this catastrophe took place
at too great a distance for us to see from the deck exactly what
happened; but on our mounting high into the rigging, we may be said to
have been in at the death; for then we could discover that the
unfortunate little creatures, one after another, either popped right
into the dolphin's jaws as they lighted on the water, or were snapped
up instantly afterwards.

It was impossible not to take an active part with our pretty little
friends of the weaker side, and accordingly we very speedily had our
revenge. The middies and the sailors, delighted with the chance,
rigged out a dozen or twenty lines from the jib-boom end, and
spritsail yard-arms, with hooks baited merely with bits of tin, the
glitter of which resembles so much that of the body and wings of the
flying-fish, that many a proud dolphin, making sure of a delicious
morsel, leaped in rapture at the deceitful prize.

It may be well to mention that the dolphin of sailors is not the fish
so called by the ancient poets. Ours, which I learn from the
Encyclopaedia, is the _Coryphoena hippurus_ of naturalists, is
totally different from their _Delphinus phocoena_, termed by us the
porpoise, respecting which there exists a popular belief amongst
seamen that the wind may be expected from the quarter to which a shoal
of porpoises are observed to steer. So far, however, from our
respecting the speculations of these submarine philosophers, every art
is used to drag them out of their native element, and to pass them
through the fire to the insatiable Molochs of the lower decks and
cockpits of his Majesty's ships, a race amongst whom the constant
supply of the best provisions appears to produce only an increase of
appetite.