uing bonito, he begins to descend. First
his coming down is like that of an aeroplane, in spirals, but a
thousand feet from his prey he volplanes; he falls like a rocket,
and seizing a fish in the air, he wings his way again to the clouds.

If he cannot find flying-fish, he stops gannets and terns in mid-air
and makes them disgorge their catch, which he seizes as it falls.
Refusal to give up the food is punished by blows on the head, but
the gannets and terns so fear the frigate that they seldom have the
courage to disobey. I think a better name for the frigate would be
pirate, for he is a veritable pirate of the air. Yet no law
restrains him.

I observed that the male frigate has a red pouch under the throat
which he puffs up with air when he flies far. It must have some
other purpose, for the female lacks it, and she needs wind-power
more than the male. It is she who seeks the food when, having laid
her one egg on the sand, she goes abroad, leaving her husband to
keep the egg warm.

The tropic-bird, often called the boatswain, or phaeton, also climbs
to great heights, and is seldom found out of these latitudes. He is
a beautiful bird, white, or rose-colored with long carmine
tail-feathers. In the sun these roseate birds are brilliant objects
as they fly jerkily against the bright blue sky, or skim over the sea,
rising and falling in their search for fish. I have seen them many
times with the frigates, with whom they are great friends. It would
appear that there is a bond between them; I have never seen the
frigate rob his beautiful companion.

In such idle observations and the vague wonders that arose from them,
the days passed. An interminable game of cards progressed in the
cabin, in which I occasionally took a hand. Gedge and Lying Bill
exchanged reminiscences. McHenry drank steadily. The future governor
of the Marquesas added a _galon_ to his sleeves, marking his advance
to a first lieutenancy in the French colonial army. He was a very
soft, sleek man, a little worn already, his black hair a trifle thin,
but he was plump, his skin white as milk, and his jetty beard and
mustache elaborately cared for. He was much before the mirror,
combing and brushing and plucking. Compared to us unkempt wretches,
he was as a dandy to a tramp.

The ice, which was packed in boxes of sawdust on deck, afforded one
cold drink in which to toast the gallant future governor, and that
was the last of it. At night the Tahitian sailo