e Atlantic Ocean
was entered; England sank beneath the horizon; and, for the first time
in his life, Ned Sinton found himself--at sea.

CHAPTER FIVE.

THE SEA--DANGERS OF THE DEEP, AND UNCERTAINTY OF HUMAN AFFAIRS--A
DISASTROUS NIGHT AND A BRIGHT MORNING--CALIFORNIA AT LAST.

Only those who have dwelt upon the ocean for many months together can
comprehend the feelings of delight, with which the long-imprisoned
voyager draws near to his desired haven. For six long months did the
_Roving Bess_ do battle with the surging billows of the great deep.
During that time she steered towards the Gulf of Mexico--carefully
avoiding that huge reservoir of sea-weed, termed the Saragossa sea, in
which the unscientific but enterprising mariners of old used to get
becalmed oftentimes for days and weeks together--she coasted down the
eastern shores of South America; fired at, and "shewed her heels" to, a
pirate; doubled Cape Horn; fought with the tempests that take special
delight in revelling there; and, finally, spreading her sails to the
genial breezes of the Pacific Ocean, drew near to her voyage-end.

All this the good ship _Roving Bess_ did with credit to herself and
comfort to her crew; but a few weeks after she entered the Pacific, she
was met, contrary to all expectation, by the bitterest gale that had
ever compelled her to scud under bare poles.

It was a beautiful afternoon when the first symptoms of the coming storm
were observed. Captain Bunting had just gone down below, and our hero
was standing at the weather gangway, observing the sudden dart of a
shoal of flying-fish, which sprang out of the sea, whizzed through the
air a few hundred feet, and fell with a splash into the water, in their
frantic efforts to escape from their bitter enemy, the dolphin.

While Ned gazed contemplatively at the spot where the winged fish had
disappeared, the captain sprang on deck.

"We're goin' to catch it," he said, hurriedly, as he passed forward;
"tumble up, there; tumble up; all hands to shorten sails. Hand down the
royals, and furl the t'gallant sails, Mr Williams, (to the first mate,)
and look alive."

"Ay, ay, sir," was answered in that prompt tone of voice which indicates
thorough discipline and unquestioning obedience, while the men scrambled
up the fore-hatch, and sprang up the ratlines hand over hand. A moment
before, the vessel had lain quietly on the bosom of the unruffled deep,
as if she were asleep, now she was