during the darkness of the night the
innumerable phosphorescent animals of the muscle kind, which, studding
the black ocean with sparks of fire, produced a dazzling and living
illumination. Our naturalist, Professor Eschscholz, has already
communicated to the world his microscopical observations upon these
marine curiosities.

On the first of October we doubled the Cape Verd Islands, without
however seeing the land, which is almost always lost in mist, and
steered direct for the Equator. Our progress was now impeded by calms,
and the heat began to be oppressive; but care and precaution preserved
the crew in perfect health, an effect which strict cleanliness, order,
and wholesome diet, will seldom fail to produce, even in long voyages.

At five degrees North latitude, we took advantage of a calm to draw up
water from a depth of five hundred fathoms, by means of a machine
invented by the celebrated Russian academician Parrot. We found the
temperature five degrees by Reaumur, while that of the water on the
surface reached twenty-five degrees. To us it appeared ice-cold, and we
felt ourselves much refreshed by washing our heads and faces with it.
The machine weighed forty pounds, and might contain about a moderate
pail-full; but the pressure of the column of water over it was such,
that six sailors with a windlass were hardly able to draw it up. We made
an attempt to sink it to a thousand fathoms' depth, but the line broke,
and we lost the machine; fortunately, however, we were provided with a
second.

While we were still more than a hundred miles from land, a swallow
alighted on the deck. It is wonderful how far these little animals can
fly without resting. At first, it seemed weary, but soon recovered, and
flew gaily about. When far out at sea, cut off from every other society
than that of our shipmates, any guest from land, even a bird, is
welcome. Ours soon became a general favourite, and was so tame, that it
would hop on our hands and take the flies we offered him without any
symptom of fear. He chose my cabin to sleep in at night; and at sunrise
flew again upon deck, where he found every one willing to entertain him,
and catch flies for his subsistence. But our hospitality proved fatal to
him; he over-ate himself, and died of an indigestion, universally
lamented.

On the 11th of October we crossed the Equator at twenty-five degrees W.
longitude, reckoning from Greenwich.[2] Having saluted the Southern
hemisphere