roved that we had now caught the
trades, which ran us to within a degree and a half of the Line, and then
left us in a glassy calm, sweltering under the scorching rays of the
tropical sun.

The breeze left us during the night, and when day broke, a large,
full-rigged ship was discovered within about seven miles of us. As soon
as it was light enough to see, she hoisted her ensign, but as it drooped
in motionless folds from the peak we could only discern that its colour
was red, from which circumstance, and the build of the ship, we arrived
at the conclusion that she was British. We of course showed our ensign
in return; but, as there was no wind to blow out the flags, it was
useless to attempt exchanging numbers or otherwise indulging in a little
sea conversation. We therefore dismissed all further thought of her
_pro tem_.

It was consequently with some little surprise that, shortly after we had
seated ourselves at breakfast in the saloon, I received a report from
the mate--who happened to be in charge of the deck--that a boat was in
sight, about three miles distant, apparently pulling to us from the
ship.

Now, when ships happen to be becalmed within close proximity to each
other, with a prospect of the calm continuing for some hours, it is not
altogether an unusual thing for the master of one ship to board the
other, for the purpose of exchanging a little sociable chat, learning
the latest news, or perhaps leaving a letter or two to be posted at the
first port arrived at. But when ships are becalmed _on the Line_, this
is rarely done unless the two craft happen to be fairly close together--
say, within half a mile or so; because in this region light, transient
airs are liable to spring up with very little warning, and when they
come everybody is naturally anxious to avail themselves of them to the
utmost as an aid toward escape from a spot in which ships have been
known to be imprisoned for as much as a month or six weeks at a time.
Then, again, under the influence of the sun's vertical rays, important
atmospheric changes sometimes take place with startling rapidity--a
squall, for example, working up and bursting from the clouds in a period
so astonishingly brief as to afford little more than the bare time
necessary to prepare for it. Under these circumstances, therefore,
ship-masters are usually very chary about making long boat-excursions
when becalmed on the Line.

The novel sensation of an anticipated vi