sun shines, the captain comes up on deck with
a queer thing in his hand, which he calls a sextant. With this he looks
at the sun, and finds out just where on this great ocean we are, and
just how far we have gone in the last twenty-four hours. To-day he says
we are three hundred miles from Honolulu.

[Illustration]

There are twenty sails on this ship. I love to lie down on deck, and
look at them; and I think it is a beautiful sight to see them all spread
and filled with wind. It almost seems as if their tops touched the sky.
All the masts and sails and ropes have names. I am sure it would take me
a good while to learn them; but all the sailors know them.

When the captain wants a sail changed, he gives the order in a very loud
tone; then the first mate, who is never very far from the captain,
repeats the order; and then the sailors run quickly to the ropes and
pull away, and sing while they pull; and the sail goes up or down, just
as the captain wants it.

Every hour a sailor takes his turn at steering the ship: so there is
always one man at the wheel. There is a large bell swung just in front
of him, which he strikes every half-hour to mark the time. When it is
twelve o'clock, he strikes the bell eight times; and it is eight bells
again at four o'clock and at eight o'clock. The first hour after eight
bells is two bells; the second, four bells; the third, six bells; and
the half-hours strike the odd numbers,--three, five, and seven bells. It
is a very funny way to tell time, I think.

One day the captain slung a hammock on deck, and we had a nice time
swinging in it. Another day, when the sea was very calm, he hung a rope
from the rigging, and made a real swing for us. We have long fish-lines
which we throw over the ship's side. Once a gentleman on board caught a
beautiful dolphin, all green and blue and gold. The steward made a nice
chowder out of the dolphin for our lunch, and we had baked dolphin for
dinner that day.

Thanksgiving Eve a little lamb was born on board. The sailors named it
"Thanksgiving," for the day. It is a dear little lamb now,--so white and
gentle! We have tied a blue ribbon around its neck, and it will run all
over the deck after us, and go to sleep in our laps. There is a cunning
little pig, too, which I call "Dennis," after the pig that I read about
in "The Nursery." I wish it were really the same wonderful little pig;
but mamma says she does not think it can be.

I must tell you about