t that I was
delighted with the trend of Admiral Rawson's questions, and that I
profited by some of his suggestions, notwithstanding the wide
difference in our respective commands.

On March 26, 1898, the _Spray_ sailed from South Africa, the land of
distances and pure air, where she had spent a pleasant and profitable
time. The steam-tug _Tigre_ towed her to sea from her wonted berth at
the Alfred Docks, giving her a good offing. The light morning breeze,
which scantily filled her sails when the tug let go the tow-line, soon
died away altogether, and left her riding over a heavy swell, in full
view of Table Mountain and the high peaks of the Cape of Good Hope.
For a while the grand scenery served to relieve the monotony. One of
the old circumnavigators (Sir Francis Drake, I think), when he first
saw this magnificent pile, sang, "'T is the fairest thing and the
grandest cape I've seen in the whole circumference of the earth."

The view was certainly fine, but one has no wish to linger long to
look in a calm at anything, and I was glad to note, finally, the short
heaving sea, precursor of the wind which followed on the second day.
Seals playing about the _Spray_ all day, before the breeze came,
looked with large eyes when, at evening, she sat no longer like a lazy
bird with folded wings. They parted company now, and the _Spray_ soon
sailed the highest peaks of the mountains out of sight, and the world
changed from a mere panoramic view to the light of a homeward-bound
voyage. Porpoises and dolphins, and such other fishes as did not mind
making a hundred and fifty miles a day, were her companions now for
several days. The wind was from the southeast; this suited the _Spray_
well, and she ran along steadily at her best speed, while I dipped
into the new books given me at the cape, reading day and night. March
30 was for me a fast-day in honor of them. I read on, oblivious of
hunger or wind or sea, thinking that all was going well, when suddenly
a comber rolled over the stern and slopped saucily into the cabin,
wetting the very book I was reading. Evidently it was time to put in a
reef, that she might not wallow on her course.

[Illustration: "Reading day and night."]

March 31 the fresh southeast wind had come to stay. The _Spray_ was
running under a single-reefed mainsail, a whole jib, and a flying-jib
besides, set on the Vailima bamboo, while I was reading Stevenson's
delightful "Inland Voyage." The sloop was again d