CHAPTER III.

THE SEA.

We returned on board the Syren in the early part of January, and on finding ourselves once more happily reunited, congratulated each other warmly upon the commencement of a year which broke upon us so auspiciously.

The health of our party was perfect; we had all greatly enjoyed our excursion into the interior of Teneriffe ; some amongst us had even climbed the great Peak, without suffering any other injury form the adventure than a very slight scratch, and above all, we had almost entirely overcome the miserable sensation of sea-sicknessthat most wretched infliction from which we had suffered so much during our voyage, and which defied all remedies; although we could not hope to escape it entirely, still, we felt much more able to resist its attacks than before. All these circumstances combined to put us in capital spirits as regarded the future, and at mid-day the anchor was raised and we proceeded on our voyage towards Rio Janeiro.

The aspect of the open sea is rather deficient in grandeur-for its vast and unruffled surface is the very type of solitude-nothing to catch the attention or disturb the mind, while the eye soon becomes weary of wandering over the monotony of the boundless space, and the imagination finds no excitement in the contemplation of the deep motionless waters. But should a sail be visible

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PHOSPHORESCENCE OF THE SEA:

in the horizon-should a light boat appear, or some great vessel, with its sails unfurled, suddenly present itself to view, the scene immediately becomes animated, and the incident, though trifling, gives a new turn to reflection. One cannot help becoming somewhat interested in the unknown beings who plough the vast expanse together, and leave no traces of their presence behind them; nor is it possible to restrain a certain feeling of curiosity as to the appearance of the different vessels, in order to ascertain, whence they come, and whither they are bound.

The tout ensemble of a large vessel always seems to partake in the character and appearance of its crew-and in the Dutch, American, and French ships, we immediately recognise the characteristics of their masters; the bluff, matter-of-fact Dutchman will tell you that he cares more about safety than time; the slender, but grave American betrays the fact that the latter is more precious to him than security-and the Frenchman, in his studied, and perhaps, rather affected appearance, shows that elegance is as much thought of by him as comfort and rapidity. Unfortunately, however, it is very seldom, that in making long voyages, one meets with ships pursuing the same route, and very frequently they pass at such a distance from each other, as to defy all efforts to investigate them. Still, this isolated life in the midst of the waters has its pleasures; for instance, the tropical nights are inexpressibly beautiful; the eye of the beholder no longer wanders over a monotonous lifeless expanse, for thousands of brilliant luminaries shine over his head, while the ship seems to plough through a sea of fire; each wave is in itself a body of light, throwing a

fantastical glare around, and the course of the vessel leaves such a long path of fire behind it, that he might almost suppose himself haunted by some gigantic dragon, which had attached itself to his course, and was pursuing him with its strange circumvolutions.

The phosphorescence of the sea is one of the most beautiful objects of nature; and many a time have I gazed with delighted eyes upon its magnificence, while leaning over the railing of the decks, contemplating with deep attention the bright luminous water, which almost resembled lava, and literally lighted up the sides of the vessel. On one side enormous flame-like balls rolled about in the waves; on the other the immense form of some great fish covered with stars as brilliant as those of heaven, reared itself above the water; then there was the medusa, with its great arms, pursuing the mollusca which were passing beneath us, or great fishes of the whale kind, rising to the surface and apparently contemplating the gallant vessel floating over its domains.

The cause of the phosphorescence of the sea has occupied the attention of our savans for a long time; but there is little doubt that it is caused by the mollusca swimming in the water, and more particularly, by the microscopic mollusca, and that there is not a single drop of water in the vast ocean, whose waves flow twice round this globe, which does not contain thousands of animated and phosphorescent beings!

I filled a net with water several times, and on each occasion withdrew it full of biphores, beröes, and medusæ ; in each drop I discovered myriads of little beings moving quickly about, and emitting great brilliancy at every

movement, from which we may conclude that they develope certain electrical qualities, of which the action is visible; besides, this is particularly the case with the larger ones, for having placed two gigantic biphores in a glass, I saw them alterately rise and descend in the water, each motion being accompanied by an emission of fiery light, which increased its luminous appearance fourfold. One of the most frequent variations to the monotony of our life on board the Syren (from Teneriffe to Rio), was the capturing of sharks, of which several perished on the deck of the vessel, the victims of their own voracity; when the wind was favourable, and one of these enormous fishes was observed following the ship, a large hook, baited with a piece a bacon, or something of the sort, was thrown towards it, and it was but very rarely that the horrible animal did not fall a victim to this coarse species of enticement.

I always used to consider the tales told of certain fishes which act as pilots to the shark, as very doubtful and improbable, but now I can testify to the truth of this; for I have never seen this voracious animal following a vessel, except when accompanied by the gasetropterus conductor, a very elegant looking fish, which seems to live on terms of perfect amity with its dreadful companions, which is an universal object of terror to all the other inhabitants of the deep. There is something very astonishing in the link which exists between two animals of an inferior race-one of which is animated by an instinct so ferocious, that it seems to exist only for the purpose of making other creatures subservient to its monstrous appetite.

CROSSING THE LINE.

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A short time after our departure from Teneriffe, we had a fête on board-a noisy, bustling, disagreeable affair, leaving on one's mind the impression of a bacchanalian revel, which I thought very bad taste; I allude to the celebrated custom of "crossing the line,” which is almost considered by the ship's crew as a day of unexampled and unlimited license. The principal feature in this scene of rejoicing is to soak one's self from head to foot, and then to cover the whole person either with flour, soot, tar, or any other substance within reach. One of the sailors who passed for a sort of literary character, or wit, on board the vessel, and who bore a very bad reputation, dressed himself as a priest, and read a sermon, which I was told, was a very severe critique upon the conduct of the second mate; but as all the allusions to him were nearly lost in the mass of high-sounding words, and flowery similes with which the discourse was overloaded, I confess that I understood very little about it. After the sermon followed some verses-but, mon Dieu! what verses! The evening was by far the most agreeable part of the day's entertainment which had been exceedingly wearisome, it was spent by the sailors in dancing to the sound of the national bignou, a sort of bag-pipe, the halfmelancholy notes of which had a sort of plaintive sound. These poor fellows seemed so very happy just at the moment, that it was impossible not to feel a little interested in their pleasures, which were so comparatively quiet, so different to the noisy frivolous amusements of their superiors, that the comparison between them was by no means to the advantage of the latter.

The sea about this time was very calm, and for a day