II.

CALM.

"It ceased: yet still the sails made on
A pleasant noise till noon--
A noise like that of a hidden brook
In the leafy month of June.
Till noon we quietly sailed on,
Yet never a breeze did breathe;
Slowly and smoothly went the ship,
Moved onward from beneath."

The great lumbering brig, with yards square, main-sail hauled up, and
the jib and trysail in the brails, lay listlessly rolling on the easy
swell of the water, giving a gentle send forward every minute or so,
when the sluggish sails would come with a thundering slap against the
masts, and the loose cordage would rattle like a drum-major's ratan on a
spree. The sea was one glassy mirror of undulations, shimmering out into
full blaze as the rising sun just threw its rays along the crest of the
ocean swell; and then, dipping down into the rolling mass, the hue would
change to a dark green, and, coming up again under the brig's black
counter, would swish out into a little shower of bubbles, and sparkle
again joyously.

Away off in the distance lay the island of Jamaica--the early haze about
the mountain tops rising like a white lace veil from the deep valleys
below, with here and there a white dot of a cluster of buildings
gleaming out from the sombre land like the flicker of a heliotrope, and
at intervals the base of the coast bursting forth in a long, heavy
fringe of foam, as the lazy breakers chafed idly about the rocks of some
projecting headland. Nearer, too, were the dark succession of waving
blue lines in parallel bars and patches of the young land wind, tipping
the backs of the rollers in a fluttering ripple of cats'-paws, and then
wandering sportively away out to sea.

On board the brig, forward, were three or four barefooted sailors, in
loose frocks and trowsers, moving lazily about the decks, drawing
buckets of water over the side and dashing it against the bulwarks,
while others were scrubbing and clearing up the vessel for the day. The
caboose, too, began to show signs of life, and a thin column of smoke
rose gracefully up in the calm morning air until it came within the
eddying influence of the sails and top-hamper, when a bit of roll would
puff it away in blue curls beyond.

Abaft stood a low, squat-built sailor at the wheel, his striped Guernsey
cap hanging on one of the spokes, and his body leaning, half asleep,
over the barrel, which gave him a sharp twitch every now and then when
the s