y whether threshers, "of several tons weight," and jumping "twenty
feet into the air," were common, my friend the captain, seemed piqued at
my implied scepticism as to marine monsters, and briefly made answer,
that there were more strange creatures in the sea, than were dreamed of
in my philosophy, and that "many an old sailor could give more real
information on the subject, than all the natural history books in the
world."

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

A CATASTROPHE.

THE WHIRLING COLUMNS--A STUPENDOUS SPECTACLE--WE LOSE OUR NEW FRIENDS.

"Still round and round the fluid vortex flies,
Scattering dun night, and horror through the skies,
The swift volution and the enormous train
Let sages versed in Nature's lore explain;
The horrid apparition still draws nigh,
And white with foam the whirling surges fly."

The breeze was now steady, though gentle, and Max and Morton set to work
rigging the sail, which for the last two days had served as an awning.

During our mutual inquiries and explanations, the Frenchman had kept the
canoe close alongside of us; he now braced round the yard of his
triangular sail, which had been shaking in the wind, and began to draw
ahead. The young native who had interfered so effectually in Max's
behalf, observing the eagerness with which we had devoured the doughy
mass of pounded bread-fruit, tossed another cake of the same substance
into the boat as we separated, which, when distributed, afforded a
morsel or two to each of us. I had particularly observed this boy on
the first approach of the canoe, from the circumstance of his occupying
a small raised platform, or dais, of wicker-work, covered with mats.

As our sail had been entirely disengaged from the mast and gaff, it was
quite a piece of work to rig it again for service, and by the time this
was effected, the canoe was some distance ahead of us: though she was
far better adapted than the yawl for sailing with a light breeze, yet we
nearly held our own with her, after once getting fairly under way.

When the wind first sprang up, the sky had become slightly overcast with
broken masses of clouds, of a peculiar and unusual appearance. From the
most considerable of these masses, radiated, as from a centre, long
lines, like pencils of light, running in straight, regularly diverging
rays, to the ocean.

We had been sailing in the wake of the canoe, perhaps half an hour, when
I observed in the south-west a singularly shaped cloud,