ntered
could only be surmised. The name, even, could not be made out. It
appeared to be a sailing craft of eighteen hundred or two thousand
tons, which had "turned turtle," as sailors term it, perhaps in the
storm which we had so lately encountered. The air retained in the hull
when it capsized evidently served to keep it afloat. Our steamer was
stopped within a safe distance, and a boat was lowered and sent in
charge of an officer to examine the hull, with orders to cut a hole in
the bottom. This would naturally cause the very dangerous obstruction
to sink. It was slow work to cut an opening in the stout bottom with
an axe, but when it was finally accomplished and an aperture two feet
square was made, the downward pressure of the huge structure forced
out the air and water with tremendous power, like a monster whale
spouting. It was now plain enough what had kept the hull afloat, for
as this confined air rushed out, producing a noise like escaping
steam, the dark mass began slowly to settle, so that before our boat
had returned and was fairly secured at the davits, it had sunk below
the surface of the waves, which washed over it for a few moments, as
though it were a coral reef. Then it suddenly disappeared altogether.
These treacherous seas have been well named the graveyard of commerce.
The mystery of the wreck, so far as we know, was never solved.
Doubtless all hands perished together when the vessel capsized.

Of course, such an experience sets one to speculating upon the
possibilities which it involves. Sometimes a terrible sense of
loneliness comes over the voyager upon the ocean, notwithstanding the
ship and its immediate surroundings, when he realizes the immense
space covered by the wilderness of the sea. It is not so much fear as
it is awe inspiring.

The passengers watched the captain with great interest daily, as he
went through the formula of recording the ship's course. Any incident
at sea is eagerly seized upon to vary the monotony. As is well known,
the commander of a ship corrects his time by the observation of the
sun at meridian, thus specifying his position upon the waste of
waters, and enabling him to mark upon the chart his exact latitude
and longitude. The process is a mystery to the average traveler, but
its simplicity will delight him, if he once takes the trouble to
understand it.

It was a bright December morning when we made the island of Ceylon.
Not a cloud was seen breaking the intense