islands were abeam, and the fresh trade-wind in the evening bore us out
of sight of them before dark.

Most delightful sailing is this large, swinging motion of our bark
bounding over the waves, with the gale abaft the beam, driving her
forward till she fairly leaps from billow to billow, as if trying to
rival her companions, the very flying-fish. Thwarted now by a sea, she
strikes it with her handsome bows, sending into the light countless
thousand sprays, that shine like a nimbus of glory. The tread on her
deck-plank is lighter now, and the little world afloat is gladsome fore
and aft.

Cape Frio (cold cape) was the next landfall. Upon reaching that point,
we had crossed the Atlantic twice. The course toward Cape Verde Islands
had been taken to avail ourselves of a leading wind through the
south-east trades, the course from the islands to Frio being
southwesterly. This latter stretch was spanned on an easy bow-line; with
nothing eventful to record. Thence our course was through variable winds
to the River Plate, where a _pampeiro_ was experienced that blew "great
guns," and whistled a hornpipe through the rigging.

These _pampeiros_ (winds from the _pampas_) usually blow with great
fury, but give ample warning of their approach: the first sign being a
spell of unsurpassed fine weather, with small, fleecy clouds floating so
gently in the sky that one scarcely perceives their movements, yet they
do move, like an immense herd of sheep grazing undisturbed on the great
azure field. All this we witnessed, and took into account. Then
gradually, and without any apparent cause, the clouds began to huddle
together in large groups; a sign had been given which the elements
recognized. Next came a flash of fire from behind the accumulating
masses, then a distant rumbling noise. It was a note of warning, and one
that no vessel should let pass unheeded. "Clew up, and furl!" was the
order. To hand all sail when these fierce visitors are out on a frolic
over the seas, and entertain them under bare poles, is the safest plan,
unless, indeed, the best storm sails are bent; even then it is safest to
goose-wing the tops'ls before the gale comes on. Not till the fury of
the blast is spent does the ship require sail, for it is not till then
that the sea begins to rise, necessitating sail to steady her.

The first onslaught of the storm, levelling all before it, and sending
the would-be waves flying across in sheets--sailor sheets, so to