Just then the bell near the helmsman's window struck again, though in a manner a little different from before; for after the two pairs of strokes which had been heard before there came a single stroke, making five in all, thus:—

Ding—ding! Ding—ding! Ding.

Immediately afterward the sound was repeated in the forward part of the ship, as it had been before.

Ding—ding! Ding—ding! Ding,

"I wonder what that means," said Rollo.

Just then an officer of the ship, in his walk up and down the deck, passed near to where Rollo was sitting, and Rollo instinctively determined to ask him.

"Will you please tell me, sir, what that striking means?"

"It's five bells," said the man; and so walked on.



CHAPTER VI.

A CONVERSATION.

Rollo at first felt quite disappointed that the officer seemed so little disposed to give him information; but immediately after the officer had gone another man came by, one of the passengers, as Rollo supposed, who proved to be more communicative. He wore a glazed cap and a very shaggy greatcoat. He sat down by the side of Jennie, Rollo being on the other side, and said,—

"He does not seem inclined to tell you much about the bells, does he, Rollo?"

"No, sir," replied Rollo; "but how did you know that my name was Rollo?"

"O, I heard about you down in the cabin," replied the stranger; "and about you too, Jennie, and your beautiful little kitten. But I will explain the meaning of the bells to you. I know all about them. I belong on board this ship. I am the surgeon."

"Are you?" said Rollo. "I did not know that there was any surgeon in the ship."

"Yes," replied the gentleman. "It is quite necessary to have a surgeon. Sometimes the seamen get hurt, and require attendance; and then sometimes there are cases of sickness among the passengers. I have got quite a little apothecary's shop in my state room. I will show it to you by and by. But now about the bells.

"You must know," continued the surgeon, "that people strike the time at sea in a very different manner from that which is customary on land. In the first place, they have a man to strike it; they cannot have a clock."

"I do not see why not," said Rollo.

"Because at sea," rejoined the surgeon, "the time changes every day, and no clock going regularly can keep it. Time depends upon the sun, and when the ship is going east she goes to meet the sun; and it becomes noon, that is, midday, earlier. When the ship is going west, she goes away from the sun, and then it becomes noon later. Thus noon has to be fixed every day anew, and a clock going regularly all the time would be continually getting wrong. Then, besides the rolling and pitching of the ship would derange the motion of the weights and pendulum of the clock. In fact, I don't believe that a clock could be made to go at all—unless, indeed, it were hung on gimbals."

"What are gimbals?" asked Rollo.

"They are a pair of rings," replied the surgeon, "one within the other, and each mounted on pivots in such a manner that any thing hung within the inner ring will swing any way freely. The lamps down in the cabin are hung on gimbals."

"Yes," said Rollo, "I saw them."

"Then, besides," continued the surgeon, "if the men strike the bells themselves, the sound, coming regularly every half hour, proves that they are at their posts and attending to their duties. So that, even if a machine could be invented to strike the time on board ship ever so truly, I do not think they would like to adopt it.

"Another difference in striking the time on board ship," continued the surgeon, "is, that they strike it by half hours instead of by hours. Scarcely any of the ship's company have watches. In fact, watches are of very little use at sea, the time is so continually changing from day to day. The sailors, therefore, and nearly all on board, depend wholly on the bells; and it is necessary, accordingly, that they should be struck often. Every two bells, therefore, means an hour; and a single bell at the end means half an hour. Now, I will strike the bells for you, and you may tell me what o'clock it is. We begin after twelve o'clock.

"Ding!"

"Half past twelve," said Rollo.

"Ding—ding!" said the surgeon again, imitating the sound of the bell with his voice.

"One o'clock," said Rollo.

"Ding—ding! Ding!" said the surgeon.

"Half past one o'clock."

"Ding—ding! Ding—ding!"

"Two o'clock!"

"Ding—ding! Ding—ding! Ding!"

"Half past two."

"Ding—ding! Ding—ding! Ding—ding!"

"Three!"

"Ding—ding! Ding—ding! Ding-ding! Ding!"

"Half past three."

"Ding—ding! Ding—ding! Ding—ding! Ding—ding!"

"Four o'clock."

"Yes," said the surgeon, "that is eight bells, and that is the end. Now they stop and begin again with one bell, which means half past four; and so they go on to eight bells again, which makes it eight o'clock. The next eight bells is twelve o'clock at night, and the next is at four o'clock in the morning, and the next at eight o'clock. So that eight bells means four o'clock, and eight o'clock, and twelve o'clock, by day; and four o'clock, and eight o'clock, and twelve o'clock, by night."

"Yes," said Rollo, "now I understand it."

"Eight bells is a very important striking," continued the surgeon. "It is a curious fact, that almost every thing important that is done at sea is done at some eight bells or other."

"How is that?" asked Rollo.

"Why, in the first place," replied the surgeon, "at eight bells in the morning, the gong sounds to wake the passengers up. Then the watch changes, too; that is, the set of men that have been on deck and had care of the ship and the sails since midnight go below, and a new watch, that is, a new set of men that have been asleep since midnight, take their places. Then the next eight bells, which is twelve, is luncheon time. At this time, too, the captain finds out from the sun whereabouts we are on the ocean, and also determines the ship's time for the next twenty-four hours. The next eight bells is at four o'clock, and that is dinner time. The next eight bells is at eight o'clock, and that is tea time. At all these times the watches change too; and so they do at the eight bells, which sound at midnight."

"Yes," said Rollo, "now I understand it. I wished to know very much what it meant, and I had a great mind to go and ask the helmsman."

"It was well that you did not go and ask him," said the surgeon.

"Why?" asked Rollo.

"Because the officers and seamen on board ships," replied the surgeon, "don't like to be troubled with questions from landsmen while they are engaged in their duties. Even the sensible questions of landsmen appear very foolish to seamen; and then, besides, they commonly ask a great many that are absolutely very foolish. They ask the captain when he thinks they will get to the end of the voyage; or, if the wind is ahead, they ask him when he thinks it will change, and all such foolish questions; as if the captain or any body else could tell when the wind would change. Sailors have all sorts of queer answers to give to these questions, to quiz the passengers who ask them, and amuse themselves. For instance, if the passengers ask when any thing is going to happen, the sailors say, 'The first of the month.' That is a sort of proverb among them, and is meant only in fun. But if it happens to be near the end of the month, the passenger, supposing the answer is in earnest, goes away quite satisfied, while the sailors wink at each other and laugh."

"Yes," said Rollo. "I heard a lady ask the captain, a short time since, when he thought we should get to Liverpool."

"And what did the captain say?" asked the surgeon.

"He said," replied Rollo, "that she must go and ask Boreas and Neptune, and some of those fellows, for they could tell a great deal better than he could."

"The captain does not like to be asked any such questions," continued the surgeon. "He cannot possibly know how the wind and sea are going to be during the voyage, and he does not like to be teased with foolish inquiries on the subject. There is no end to the foolishness of the questions which landsmen ask when they are at sea. Once I heard a man stop a sailor, as he was going up the shrouds, to inquire of him whether he thought they would see any whales on that voyage."

"And what did the sailor tell him?" asked Rollo.

"He told him," replied the surgeon, "that he thought there would be some in sight the next morning about sunrise. So the passenger got up early the next morning and took his seat on the deck, watching every where for whales, while the sailors on the forecastle, who had told the story to one another, were all laughing at him."

Rollo himself laughed at this story.

"These questions, after all, are not really so foolish as they seem," said the surgeon. "For instance, if a passenger asks about seeing whales, he means merely to inquire whether there are whales in that part of the ocean, and whether they are usually seen from the ships that pass along; and if so, how frequently, in ordinary cases, the sight of them may be expected. All this, rightly understood, is sensible and proper enough; but sailors are not great philosophers, and they generally see nothing in such inquiries but proofs of ridiculous simplicity and chances for them to make fun.

"You can tell just how it seems to them yourself, Rollo," continued the surgeon, "by imagining that some farmer's boys lived on a farm where sailors, who had never been in the country before, came by every day, and asked an endless series of ridiculous questions. For instance, on seeing a sheep, the sailor would ask what that was. The farmer's boys would tell him it was a sheep. The sailor would ask what it was for. The boys would say they kept sheep to shear them and get the wool. Then presently the sailor would see a cow, and would ask if that was a kind of sheep. The farmer's boys would say no; it was a cow. Then the sailor would ask if they sheared cows to get the wool. No, the boys would say; we milk cows. Then presently he would see a horse, and he would ask whether that was a cow or a sheep. They would say it was neither; it was a horse. Then the sailor would ask whether they kept horses to milk them or to shear them and so on forever."

Rollo laughed loud and long at these imaginary questionings. At last he said,—

"But I don't think we ask quite such foolish questions as these."

"They do not seem so foolish to you," replied the surgeon, "but they do to the sailors. The sailors, you see, know all the ropes and rigging of the ship, and every thing seen at sea, just as familiarly as boys who live in the country do sheep, and cows, and wagons, and other such objects seen about the farm; and the total ignorance in regard to them which landsmen betray, whenever they begin to ask questions on board, seems to the sailors extremely ridiculous and absurd. So they often make fun of the passengers who ask them, and put all sorts of jokes upon them. For instance, a passenger on board a packet ship once asked a sailor what time they would heave the log. 'The log,' said the sailor, 'they always heave the log at nine bells. When you hear nine bells strike, go aft, and you'll see them.' So the passenger watched and counted the bells every time they struck, all the morning, in the hopes to hear nine bells; whereas they never strike more than eight bells. It was as if a man had said, on land, that such or such a thing would happen at thirteen o'clock."

Rollo and Jennie laughed.

"So you must be careful," continued the surgeon, "what questions you ask of the officers and seamen about the ship; and you must be careful, too, what you believe in respect to the things they tell you. Perhaps it will be the truth they will tell you, and perhaps they will be only making fun of you. You may ask me, however, any thing you like. I will answer you honestly. I am at leisure, and can tell you as well as not. Besides, I like to talk with young persons like you. I have a boy at home myself of just about your rating."

"Where is your home?" asked Rollo.

"It is up on the North River," said the surgeon, "about one hundred miles from New York. And now I must go away, for it is almost eight bells, and that is dinner time. I shall see you again by and by. There's one thing more, though, that I must tell you before I go; and that is, that you had better not go to any strange places about the ship where you do not see the other passengers go. For instance, you must not go up upon the paddle boxes."

"No," said Rollo. "I saw a sign painted, saying that passengers were not allowed to go up on the paddle boxes."

"And you must not go forward among the sailors, or climb up upon the rigging," continued the surgeon.

"Why not?" asked Rollo.

"Because those parts of the ship are for the seamen alone, and for others like them, who have duties to perform on shipboard. What should you think," continued the surgeon, "if some one who had come to make a visit at your house were to go up stairs, looking about in all the chambers, or down into the kitchen, examining every thing there to see what he could find?"

"I should think it was very strange," said Jennie.

"Certainly," said the surgeon, "and it is the same on board ship. There are certain parts of the ship, such as the cabins, the state rooms, and the quarter decks, which are appropriated to the passengers; and there are certain other parts, such as the forecastle, the bows, and the rigging, which are the domains of the seamen. It is true, that sometimes a passenger may go into these places without impropriety, as, for example, when he has some business there, or when he is specially invited; just as there may be circumstances which would render it proper for a gentleman to go into the kitchen, or into the garret, at a house where he is visiting. But those are exceptions to the general rules, and boys especially, both when visiting in houses and when they are passengers on board ships, should be very careful to keep in proper places."

"I am glad I did not go climbing up the rigging," said Rollo.

"Yes," replied the surgeon. "Once I knew a passenger go climbing up the shrouds on board an East Indiaman, and when he had got half way up to the main top, and began to be afraid to proceed, the sailors ran up after him, and, under pretence of helping him, they tied him there, hand and foot, with spun yarn."

"Ha!" said Rollo. "And what did he do?

"He begged them to let him down, but they would not. They said it was customary, whenever a landsman came up into the rigging, for him to pay for his footing by a treat to the sailors; and that they would let him down if he would give them a dollar for a treat."



"And did he give it to them," asked Rollo.

"Yes, he said he would," replied the surgeon "if they would untie one of his hands, so that he could get the dollar out of his pocket. So they untied one of his hands, and he gave them the dollar. Then they untied his other hand and his feet, and so let him go down."

"Why did not he call the captain?" asked Rollo.

"O, the captain would not have paid any attention to such a case," replied the surgeon. "If he had been on deck at the time he would have looked the other way, and would have pretended not to see what was going on; but he would really have been pleased. He would have considered the passenger as justly punished for climbing about where he had no business to go."

Rollo was greatly interested in this narrative. He thought what a narrow escape he had had in deciding that he would not attempt to climb up the shrouds, and he secretly determined that he would be very careful, not only while he was on board the steamer, but also on all other occasions, not to violate the proprieties of life by obtruding himself into places where he ought not to go.

The surgeon now went away, leaving Rollo and Jane on the settee together.

"I wish," said Rollo, "that I had asked him what he meant by heaving the log."

"No," said Jane, "you must not ask any questions."

"Yes," replied Rollo, "I may ask him questions. He said that I might ask any questions that I pleased of him."

"Well," said Jane, "then you must ask him the nest time you see him."

"I will," said Rollo. "And now let us go down into our state room and find Maria, and get ready to go to dinner."

"Well," said Jane, "only let me go first alone. I want to see if I cannot find my way to the state room alone."

Rollo acceded to this proposal, and he accordingly remained on the settee himself while Jane went down. Jane looked up toward him when she turned to go down the steep flight of stairs which led from the promenade deck, with a smile upon her countenance, which seemed to say, "You see I am right so far," and then, descending the steps,—holding on carefully all the time by the green rope,—she soon disappeared from view. Rollo waited a proper time, and then followed Jane. He found her safe upon the couch in her state room, with Maria seated by her side.

In a very few minutes after Rollo came into the state room eight bells struck, and so they all went out to dinner. At first, Jennie said that she did not wish to go. She did not wish for any dinner. In fact, Rollo perceived, in looking at her, that she was beginning to be a little pale. Maria told her, however, that she had better go and take some dinner.

"The rule at sea," said Maria, "always is, to go to the table if you possibly can."

So they all went out into the dining saloon through the long and narrow passages that have been already described. They were obliged to put their hands up to the sides of the passage ways, first to one side and then to the other, to support themselves, on account of the rolling of the ship, for there now began to be considerable motion. When they reached the saloon they staggered into their places, and there sat rocking gently to and fro on the long swell of the sea, and prepared to eat their dinner.

The dinner was very much like a dinner in a fine hotel on land, except that, as every thing was in motion, it required some care to prevent the glasses and plates from sliding about and spilling what they contained. Besides the ledges along the sides of the tables, there were also two running up and down in the middle of it, partitioning off the space where the various dishes were placed, in the centre, from the space along the sides where the plates, and knives, and forks, and tumblers of the several guests were laid. This arrangement served, in some measure, to keep every thing in its place; but notwithstanding this, there was a good deal of sliding and jingling among the glasses whenever an unusual sea came rolling along. In one case, a tumbler, which the person whom it belonged to had not properly secured, came sliding down toward him, while his hands were busy taking care of his soup plate; and when it came to the ledge which formed the edge of the table, the bottom of it was stopped, but the top went over, and poured all the water into the gentleman's lap. Upon this all the passengers around the place laughed very heartily.

"There, Rollo," said Jane, "you had better be careful, and not let your tumbler get upset."

"Why, it is nothing but water," replied Rollo. "It won't do any harm. I would as lief have a little water spilled on me as not."

"I should not care about the water so much," replied Jennie; "but I would not as lief have every body laughing at me as not."

This was a very important distinction, and Rollo concluded that it was, after all, better to be careful. He watched the movements of the other passengers when the seas came, and observed the precautions which they took to guard against such accidents, and by imitating these he soon became quite adroit. The dinner took a good deal of time, as there were many courses, all served with great regularity. First, there was soup; then fish of various kinds; then all sorts of roasted meats, such as beef, mutton, chickens, and ducks, with a great variety of vegetables. Then came puddings, pies, jellies, ice creams, and preserves; and, finally, a dessert of nuts, raisins, apples, almonds, and oranges. In fact, it was a very sumptuous dinner, and what was very remarkable, when at last it was ended, and the party rose from the table to go back to the cabin, Jennie said that she had a better appetite at the end of the dinner than she had had at the beginning.



CHAPTER VII.

INCIDENTS.

By the time that Rollo and Jennie had been two days at sea, they had become accustomed to their novel position, and they began to feel quite at home on board the ship. They formed acquaintance with several of the passengers, and they went to and fro about the cabins and decks, and visited their friends in their state rooms quite freely, sometimes alone and sometimes together. The sky was clear, and the water was comparatively smooth. It is true that there was a long swell upon the surface of the sea, which produced a continual, though gentle, rocking of the ship, that made many of the passengers sick and uncomfortable. Rollo and Jane, however, felt for the most part quite well. Sometimes, for a short period, one or the other of them looked pale, and seemed dispirited. At such times they would lie down upon the couch in their state room, or upon a sofa in one of the saloons, and remain quietly there an hour at a time. Jennie usually in such cases was accustomed to lie on the couch in her state room, on account of the seclusion of it; while Rollo, on the other hand, seemed to prefer the saloon. He, being a boy, did not care so much about the seclusion. On the contrary, it amused him to see the people going to and fro, and to watch the reflections of their forms in the mirrors about him. Sometimes, also, it would happen that there were two or more of the passengers seated near him and engaged in conversation, that it entertained him to hear; especially when it related, as it often did, to adventures and incidents that they had met with at sea on former voyages. It was necessary, however, that persons thus conversing should be seated very near, in order that Rollo should hear them; for the ship kept up a continual creaking in all its joints, from the rolling of the sea, which made it very difficult to hear what was said across the cabin.

The mirrors, however, and the reflections in them, produced the most singular illusions, and were a source of continual interest to Rollo's mind, as he lay upon the sofa surrounded by them. There were so many of these mirrors that the saloon, and all that pertained to it, were reflected a great many times, and thus produced the most wonderful effects. Long passages were seen running off in all directions, and cabin beyond cabin, in an endless perspective. So bright and distinct, too, were the reflections, that it was difficult to tell whether what you were looking at was real, or only an imaged reflection of it. Sometimes Rollo would see, apparently at a great distance, a man walking along among carved columns in some remote passage way, and then, in an instant, the man would pass directly by his sofa. He had been near all the time, and it was only some third or fourth reflection of him that Rollo had seen.

On the afternoon of the second day of Rollo's voyage, just before eight bells, which would be the time for dinner, as Rollo was lying on a sofa in the saloon, feeling very miserably, and extremely disinclined to speak or to move, two young men came along, talking in a loud and somewhat noisy manner. They stopped opposite to him, and one of them began punching Rollo with the curved head of his cane, saying,—

"Well, Rollo, what's the matter with you? Sick? O, get up, boy, and drive about. Don't lie moping here like a landlubber. Get up, and go and eat some dinner. It is almost eight bells."

Rollo wished very much that these visitors would leave him alone. He made very little reply to them, only saying that he did not wish for any dinner. In fact, he felt sure that, if he were to go to the table, he could not eat any thing.

The men, after laughing at him, and punching him, and teasing him a little longer, went away.

A few minutes after this, Maria and Jennie came into the saloon. They were ready to go to dinner, and so they came into the saloon to wait there till the gong should sound. When they saw Rollo lying upon the sofa, they went up to him, but did not speak. Rollo opened his eyes and looked at them. Maria smiled, but still did not speak. Rollo smiled in return, though somewhat faintly, and then shut his eyes again. Then Maria led Jennie away, gently.

"You see," said Maria to Jennie, when they had gone out of Rollo's hearing, "he feels a little sick, and when persons feel seasick they do not like to talk. I am going to get him a bowl of broth."

"Well," said Jennie, "let me go and ask him if he would like some."

"No," said Maria. "If you were to ask him, he would say no. He would think that he could not eat it; and yet, if I bring it to him, without saying any thing about it, when he tastes it perhaps he will like it. In fact, when people are sick, it is always better not to ask them too much about what they would like. It is better to consider what we think they would like, and bring it to them, without saying any thing about it beforehand."

So saying, Maria rang the saloon bell. The chambermaid came in answer to the summons. Maria then sent the chambermaid to the dining saloon to bring a bowl of chicken broth to her. The chambermaid went out, and presently returned, bringing the broth, just as the gong was sounding for dinner. Maria carried the broth to Rollo.

When she offered it to him, Rollo thought at first that he should not be able to take but two or three spoonfuls of it, but on tasting it he found that he liked it very much. He ate it all, and, as he lay down again upon his sofa, he said that he felt a great deal better.

Maria then told him that he might lie still there as long as he pleased; adding, that she and Jennie were going to dinner. Maria and Jennie then went away, leaving Rollo alone again.

Rollo felt so much better for the broth that he had taken, that pretty soon he rose from his recumbent position, and began to sit up. Presently he said to himself, "How much better I do feel. I believe I will go and get some dinner."

So he rose from the sofa, and began to stagger along toward the door of the saloon. He found, however, that after all he felt somewhat giddy and light headed; and he concluded, therefore, that, instead of going to dinner, he would go up on deck and see how the wind was. He accordingly turned to the staircase which led up to the main deck, and steadying himself by the hand rail as he ascended the steps, he went up.

At the head of the stairs was a passage way, and at the end of the passage way there was a space upon the deck, which was half enclosed; it being shut in by an awning on the windy side, and open on the other. This place was often resorted to by passengers who were sick, and who wished for more fresh air than they could have below. There was a row of settees on one side of this space, and, at the time that Rollo came up there, there was a lady lying on one of these settees, apparently in a very forlorn condition. She looked very pale, and her eyes were shut. She was lying upon a mattress, which had been put upon the settee for her, and was covered up with blankets and shawls.

A gentleman, who seemed to be her husband, was standing before her, attempting to persuade her to get up. He did this, however, as Rollo thought, in rather a rough and heartless manner.

"O, get up! get up!" said he. "You never will be well if you lie here. Come, go with me and get some dinner."

The lady said, in a mournful tone, that she could not get up, and that she had no appetite for dinner.

"Well," said her husband, "I am going."

"I wish you could tell me something about Hilbert," said the lady. "I feel very anxious about him. I am afraid that he will get into some trouble. He is so careless."

"O, no," said her husband. "Don't disturb yourself about him. He's safe enough somewhere, I dare say."

So saying, the gentleman went away.

Rollo immediately conceived the idea of performing for this lady the kind service which Maria had so successfully performed for him. So, without speaking to her at all, he went immediately down into the cabin again, and thence followed the long passages which led to the dining saloon, until he came to the door of it. He looked in, and saw that the people were all seated at the table, eating their dinners. He went to one of the waiters, and asked him if he would bring him a bowl of chicken broth, to carry to a lady who was sick.

The waiter said that he would do so, and immediately went to get the broth. When he came back with it, he said to Rollo,—

"You had better let me take it to the lady."

"No," said Rollo, "I can take it myself. I know exactly where she is."

So Rollo took the bowl, and began to carry it along. He did this without much difficulty, for it was not by any means full. Bowls of broth intended to be carried about ship at sea are never entirely full.

When, finally, he came to the place where the lady was lying on the settee, he stood there a moment holding the bowl in his hand, without speaking, as he thought the lady was asleep; for her eyes were shut. In a moment, however, she opened her eyes. Rollo then said to her,—

"Would not you like a bowl of broth, lady? I have brought some for you."

The lady gazed at Rollo a moment with a sort of bewildered look, and then, raising herself up upon the settee, she took the broth, and began to eat it with the spoon. At first, she seemed to take it cautiously and with doubt; but presently, finding that she liked it, she took spoonful after spoonful with evident pleasure. Rollo was extremely delighted at the success of his experiment. The lady said nothing to him all the time, though she looked up at him repeatedly with a very earnest gaze while she was taking the broth. At length she finished it, and then gave Rollo back the bowl, saying, as she did it,—

"Did my husband send you with that bowl of broth to me?"

"No," said Rollo, "I brought it myself."

"And what put it into your head to do that?" added the lady.

"Why, Maria brought some to me when I was sick," replied Rollo, "and it did me good; and so I thought it would do you good."

The lady looked at him a moment more with an earnest gaze, and then lay down again, and shut her eyes.

Presently she opened them a moment, and said,—

"Do you know my son Hilbert?"

"I have seen a boy about the ship," said Rollo, "not quite so big as I am. Is that he?"

"With a blue jacket?" said the lady.

"Yes," said Rollo, "and a bow and arrows."

"That's he," said the lady. "If you will go and find out where he is, and ask him to come to me, you will do me a great deal of good."

Rollo had seen this boy several times in different places about the ship; but as he seemed to be rather rude and boisterous in his manners, and very forward and free withal in his intercourse with the passengers who chanced to speak to him from time to time, Rollo had not felt much disposed to form an acquaintance with him. The boy had a bow and arrows, with which he had often amused himself in shooting about the decks. He did this with so little consideration, that at last, one of the officers of the ship told him that he must not shoot any more in those parts of the ship where the ladies were, but that he must go forward, among the sailors, if he wished to practise archery. So the boy went forward, and from that time he spent most of his time on the forward deck among the sailors, and in the midst of the ropes and the rigging.

Rollo now went in pursuit of him, and after looking for him in many places, both before and aft, he finally went down into the dining saloon, and there he found Hilbert seated at the table, eating dinner, with his father. His bows and arrows were on the seat by his side.

Rollo went up to the place where Hilbert was sitting, and in a timid and cautious manner informed him that his mother wished to see him.

"My mother!" repeated Hilbert, looking up surprised.

"Yes," replied Rollo; "she asked me to tell you. But I suppose that she can wait until you have finished your dinner."

"O, no," said Hilbert, "I can't go at all. Go tell her I can't come."

Rollo was greatly astonished at receiving such a message as this from a boy to his mother.

"Hilbert," said his father, in a very stern and threatening manner, "go to your mother directly."

"No," said Hilbert, in a sort of begging and whining tone. "No. If I do, she'll make me stay there all the afternoon."

"No matter for that," said his father; "go directly."

Hilbert did not move, but went on eating his dinner.

"At least," said his father, "you must go immediately when you have done your dinner."

Hilbert muttered something in reply, but Rollo did not hear what it was. In fact, he did not wish to hear any more of such a dialogue as this between a child and his father. So he went away. He was not at all inclined to go back to the lady and inform her what Hilbert had said; but he thought that he ought at least to go and tell her that he had found Hilbert, as he had been taught that it was always his duty to go back with a report when sent on a message. So he went back to the lady, and told her that he had found Hilbert, and that he was at dinner with his father.

"And what did he say about coming to me?" asked the lady.

"His father told him that he must come as soon as he had finished his dinner," replied Rollo.

"Very well," said the lady, "that will do."

So saying, she turned her head away and shut her eyes again, and so Rollo withdrew.

It would be a very nice and delicate point to determine whether Rollo's answer in this case was or was not as full as strict honesty required. He certainly did not state any thing that was not true; nor did he, in what he said, convey any false impression. He, however, withheld a very important part of what the lady must have desired to know. It is undoubtedly sometimes right for us to conceal or withhold the truth. Sometimes, indeed, it is our imperious duty to do so. Rollo's motive for doing as he did in this case was to avoid giving a sick mother pain, by reporting to her the undutiful conduct of her son. Whether it would or would not have been better for him to have communicated the whole truth, is a point which must be left for the readers of this book to discuss and settle among themselves.

After dinner, Hilbert, instead of going to his mother, went up upon the deck, leaving his bow and arrows, however, down in the cabin. As Rollo and Jennie were, at that time, seated near the after part of the promenade deck, he came and sat down near them. Rollo had a great desire to get up and go away, taking Jennie with him; but he feared that it would be impolite for him to do so; and while he was considering what he should do, the surgeon came along that way, and said to them,—

"Children, have you seen the little bird?"

"What bird?" exclaimed the children, all together.

"Why, there has a bird come on board," replied the surgeon. "He belongs in Nova Scotia, I suppose. That is the nearest land. He is forward, somewhere, among the sailors."

The children immediately hurried out to the most forward part of the promenade deck, near the great smoke pipe, to a place from which they could look down upon the forward deck. There they saw the little bird perched upon a coil of rigging. He was perfectly still. Some sailors were standing near, looking at him. The bird, however appeared to take no notice of them.

"Poor little thing!" said Rollo. "I expect he is tired flying so far. I wonder how far it is to Nova Scotia."

Rollo turned round as he said this, to see if the surgeon was near, in order to ask him how far the poor bird was from home. The surgeon was not there, but he saw that both Jennie and Hilbert had suddenly started together to go back toward the stairway, as if they were going below.

"Jennie," said Rollo, "where are you going?"

Jennie did not answer, but hurried on. Hilbert seemed equally eager. In fact, it was evident that they had both been seized with some new idea, though Rollo could not at first imagine what it was. At length, he said,—

"Ah! I know. They are going down where the bird is, to see it nearer. I'll go with them."

So saying, Rollo hurried away too.

He was mistaken, however, in supposing that Hilbert and Jennie were merely going to the forward deck so as to get nearer the bird. Jennie was going down into the cabin to shut up her kitten. The instant that she saw the bird she was reminded of Tiger, having sometimes seen Tiger run after little birds in the yards and gardens at home. They could escape from her by flying away, but this poor bird seemed so tired that Jennie was afraid the kitten would catch it and kill it, if she came near; and so she ran off very eagerly to shut the kitten up.

She found the kitten asleep on a sofa in the cabin. She immediately seized her, waking her up very suddenly by so doing, and hurried her off at once to her cage. Jennie put the kitten into the cage, and then shut and fastened the door.

"There, Tiger," said she, "you must stay in there. There is something up stairs that you must not see."

Then Jennie took the cage up, by means of the ring which formed the handle at the top, and carried it into her state room. She pushed aside the curtains of the lower berth, and, putting the cage in, she deposited it upon a small shelf in the end of the berth. Then, drawing the curtains again very carefully, she came out of the state room and shut the door.

"Now, Tiger," said she, as she tried the door to see if it was fast, "you are safe; and you must stay there until the little bird goes away."

The kitten, when she found herself thus left alone in such a seclusion, stood for a moment on the floor of the cage, looking toward the curtains, in an attitude of great astonishment; then, knowing well, from past experience, that it was wholly useless for her to speculate on the reasons of Jennie's doings, she lay down upon the floor of the cage, curled herself into a ring, and went to sleep again.



As for Hilbert, who had set off from the smoke pipe deck at the same time with Jennie, and in an equally eager manner, his going below had been with an entirely different intent from hers. He was going to get his bow and arrows, in order to shoot the little bird. He found them on the seat where he had left them. He seized them hastily, and ran up by the forward gangway, which brought him out upon the forward deck not very far from where the bird was resting upon the coil of rigging. He crept softly up toward him, and adjusted, as he went, his arrow to his bow. Several of the sailors were near, and one of them, a man whom they called Hargo, immediately stopped the operation that he was engaged in, and demanded of Hilbert what he was going to do.

"I am going to pop one of my arrows into that bird," said Hilbert.

"No such thing," said the sailor. "You pop an arrow into that bird, and I'll pop you overboard."

Sailors will never allow any one to molest or harm in any way the birds that alight upon their ships at sea.

"Overboard!" repeated Hilbert, in a tone of contempt and defiance. "You would not dare to do such a thing."

So saying, he went on adjusting his arrow, and, creeping up toward the bird, began to take aim.

Hargo here made a signal to some of his comrades, who, in obedience to it, came up near him in a careless and apparently undesigned manner. Hargo then, by a sudden and unexpected movement, pulled the bow and arrow out of Hilbert's hand, and passed them instantly behind him to another sailor, who passed them to another, each standing in such a position as to conceal what they did entirely from Hilbert's sight. The thing was done so suddenly that Hilbert was entirely bewildered. His bow and arrow were gone, but he could not tell where. Each sailor, the instant that he had passed the bow and arrow to the next, assumed a careless air, and went on with his work with a very grave and unmeaning face, as if he had not been taking any notice of the transaction. The last man who received the charge was very near the side of the ship, and as he stood there, leaning with a careless air against the bulwarks, he slyly dropped the bow and arrow overboard. They fell into the water just in advance of the paddle wheel. As the ship was advancing through the water all this time with tremendous speed, the paddle struck both the bow and the arrow the instant after they touched the water, and broke them both into pieces. The fragments came out behind, and floated off unseen in the foam which drifted away in a long line in the wake of the steamer. Hilbert was perfectly confounded. He knew nothing of the fate which his weapons had met with. All he knew was, that they had somehow or other suddenly disappeared as if by magic. Hargo had taken them, he was sure; but what he had done with them, he could not imagine. He was in a great rage, and turning to Hargo with a fierce look, he demanded, in a loud and furious tone,—

"Give me back my bow and arrow."

"I have not got your bow and arrow," said Hargo.

So saying, Hargo held up both hands, by way of proving the truth of his assertion.

Hilbert gazed at him for a moment, utterly at a loss what to do or say, and then he looked at the other sailors who were near, first at one, and then at another; but he could get no clew to the mystery.

"You have got them hid behind you," said Hilbert, again addressing Hargo.

"No," said he. "See."

So saying, he turned round and let Hilbert see that the bow and arrow were not behind him.

"Well, you took them away from me, at any rate," said Hilbert; and saying this, he turned away and walked off, seemingly very angry. He was going to complain to his father.

He met his father coming up the cabin stairs, and began, as soon as he came near him, to complain in very bitter and violent language of the treatment that he had received. Hargo had taken away his bow and arrow, and would not them back to him.

"Very well," replied his father, quietly, "you had been doing some mischief with them, I suppose."

"No," said Hilbert, "I had not been doing any thing at all."

"Then you were going to do some mischief with them, I suppose," said his father.

"No," said Hilbert, "I was only going to shoot a little bird."

"A little bird!" repeated his father, surprised. "What little bird?"

"Why, a little bird that came on board from Nova Scotia, they said," replied Hilbert. "He came to rest."

"And you were going to shoot him?" said his father, in a tone of surprise. Then, after pausing a moment, he added, "Here, come with me."

So saying, Hilbert's father turned and walked down the cabin stairs again. He led the way to his state room, which, as it happened, was on the opposite side of the cabin from that which Jennie occupied. When he reached the door of the state room, he opened it, and standing on one side, he pointed the way to Hilbert, saying, sternly,—

"Go in there!"

Hilbert went in.

"You will stay there, now," said his father "as long as that bird sees fit to remain on board. It won't do, I see, for you both to be on deck together."

So saying, Hilbert's father shut the state room door, and locked it; and then, putting the key in his pocket, went away.

The bird was now safe, his two enemies—the only enemies he had on board the steamer—being shut up in their respective state rooms, as prisoners, one on one side of the cabin, and the other on the other. He did not, however, rest any the more quietly on this account; for he had not at any time been conscious of the danger that he had been in, either from the kitten or the boy. He went on reposing quietly at the resting-place which he had chosen on the coil of rigging, until at last, when his little wings had become somewhat reinvigorated, he came down from it, and went hopping about the deck. Jennie and Maria then went down below and got some bread for him. This they scattered in crums before him, and he came and ate it with great satisfaction. In about two hours he began to fly about a little; and finally he perched upon the bulwarks, and looked all over the sea. Perceiving that he was now strong enough to undertake the passage home to his mate, he flew off, and ascending high into the air, until he obtained sight of the coast, he then set forth with great speed in that direction.

It was several hundred miles to the shore, and he had to rest two or three times on the way. Once he alighted on an English ship-of-war that was going into Halifax; the next time upon a small fishing boat on the Banks. He was not molested at either of his resting-places; and so in due time he safely reached the shore, and joined his mate at the nest, in a little green valley in Nova Scotia. He was very glad to get home. He had not intended to have gone so far to sea. He was blown off by a strong wind, which came up suddenly while he was playing in the air, about five miles from shore.

The two prisoners were liberated from their state rooms after having been kept shut up about two hours. Tiger did not mind this confinement at all; for her conscience being quiet, she did not trouble herself about it in the least, but slept nearly the whole time. It was, however, quite a severe punishment to Hilbert; for his mind was all the time tormented with feelings of vexation, self-reproach, and shame.



CHAPTER VIII.

THE STORM.

The navigation of the Atlantic by means of the immense sea-going steamers of the present day, with all its superiority in most respects, is attended with one very serious disadvantage, at least for all romantic people, and those who particularly enjoy what is grand and sublime. To passengers on board an Atlantic steamer, a storm at sea—that spectacle which has, in former times, been so often described as the most grand and sublime of all the exhibitions which the course of nature presents to man—is divested almost entirely of that imposing magnificence for which it was formerly so renowned.

There are several reasons for this.

First, the height of the waves appears far less impressive, when seen from on board an Atlantic steamer, than from any ordinary vessel; for the deck in the case of these steamers is so high, that the spectator, as it were, looks down upon them. Any one who has ever ascended a mountain knows very well what the effect is upon the apparent height of all smaller hills, when they are seen from an elevation that is far higher than they. In fact, a country that is really quite hilly is made to appear almost level, by being surveyed from any one summit that rises above the other elevations. The same is the case with the waves of the sea, when seen from the promenade deck of one of these vast steamers.

The waves of the sea are never more than twelve or fifteen feet high, although a very common notion prevails that they run very much higher. It has been well ascertained that they never rise more than twelve or fifteen feet above the general level of the water; and if we allow the same quantity for the depth of the trough, or hollow between two waves, we shall have from twenty-five to thirty feet as the utmost altitude which any swell of water can have, reckoning from the most depressed portions of the surface near it. Now, in a first-class Atlantic steamer, there are two full stories, so to speak, above the surface of the sea, and a promenade deck above the uppermost one. This brings the head of the spectator, when he stands upon the promenade dock and surveys the ocean around him, to the height of twenty-five or thirty feet above the surface of the water. The elevation at which he stands varies considerably, it is true, at different portions of the voyage. When the ship first comes out of port she is very heavily laden, as she has on board, in addition to the cargo, all the coal which she is to consume during the whole voyage. This is an enormous quantity—enough for the full lading of what used to be considered a large ship in former days. This coal being gradually consumed during the voyage, the steamer is lightened; and thus she swims lighter and lighter as she proceeds, being four or five feet higher out of the water when she reaches the end of her voyage than she was at the beginning.

Thus the height at which the passenger stands above the waves, when walking on the promenade deck of an Atlantic steamer, varies somewhat during the progress of the voyage; but it is always, or almost always, so great as to bring his head above the crests of the waves. Thus he looks down, as it were, upon the heaviest seas, and this greatly diminishes their apparent magnitude and elevation. On the contrary, to one going to sea in vessels as small as those with which Columbus made the voyage when he discovered America, the loftiest billows would rise and swell, and toss their foaming crests far above his head, as he clung to the deck to gaze at them. They would seem at times ready to overwhelm him with the vast and towering volumes of water which they raised around him. Then, when the shock which was produced by the encounter of one of them was passed, and the ship, trembling from the concussion, rose buoyantly over the swell, being small in comparison with the volume of the wave, she was lifted so high that she seemed to hang trembling upon the brink of it, ready to plunge to certain destruction into the yawning gulf which opened below.

All this is, however, now changed. The mighty steamer, twice as long, and nearly four times as massive as the ship, surpasses the seas now, as it were, in magnitude and momentum, as well as in power. She not only triumphs over them in the contest of strength, but she towers above and overtops them in position. The billow can now no longer toss her up so lightly to the summit of its crest; nor, when the crest of it is passed, will she sink her so fearfully into the hollow of the sea. The spectator, raised above all apparent danger, and moving forward through the scene of wild commotion with a power greater far than that which the foaming surges can exert, surveys the scene around him with wonder and admiration, it is true, but without that overpowering sensation of awe which it could once inspire.

Then there is another thing. A sailing vessel, which is always in a great measure dependent upon the wind, is absolutely at its mercy in a storm. When the gale increases beyond a certain limit, she can no longer make head at all against its fury, but must turn and fly—or be driven—wherever the fury of the tempest may impel her. In such cases, she goes bounding over the seas, away from her course, toward rocks, shoals, breakers, or any other dangers whatever which may lie in the way, without the least power or possibility of resistance. She goes howling on, in such a case, over the wide waste of waters before her, wholly unable to escape from the dreadful fury of the master who is driving her, and with no hope of being released from his hand, until he chooses, of his own accord, to abate his rage.

All this, too, is now changed. This terrible master has now found his master in the sea-going steamer. She turns not aside to the right hand or to the left, for all his power. Boreas may send his gales from what quarter he pleases, and urge them with whatever violence he likes to display. The steamer goes steadily on, pointing her unswerving prow directly toward her port of destination, and triumphing easily, and apparently without effort, over all the fury of the wind and the shocks and concussions of the waves. The worst that the storm can do is to retard, in some degree, the swiftness of her motion. Instead of driving her, as it would have done a sailing vessel, two or three hundred miles out of her course, away over the sea, it can only reduce her speed in her own proper and determined direction to eight miles an hour instead of twelve.

Now, this makes a great difference in the effect produced upon the mind by witnessing a storm at sea. If the passenger, as he surveys the scene, feels that his ship, and all that it contains, has been seized by the terrific power which he sees raging around him, and that they are all entirely at its mercy,—that it is sweeping them away over the sea, perhaps into the jaws of destruction, without any possible power, on their part, of resistance or escape,—his mind is filled with the most grand and solemn emotions. Such a flight as this, extending day after day, perhaps for five hundred miles, over a raging sea, is really sublime.

The Atlantic steamer never flies. She never yields in any way to the fury of the gale, unless she gets disabled. While her machinery stands, she moves steadily forward in her course; and so far as any idea of danger is concerned, the passengers in their cabins and state rooms below pay no more regard to the storm than a farmer's family do to the whistling and howling of the wind among the chimneys of their house, in a blustering night on land.

So much for the philosophy of a storm at sea, as witnessed by the passengers on board an Atlantic steamer.

* * * * *

One night, when the steamer had been some time at sea, Rollo awoke, and found himself more than usually unsteady in his berth. Sometimes he slept upon his couch, and sometimes in his berth. This night he was in his berth, and he found himself rolling from side to side in it, very uneasily. The croaking of the ship, too, seemed to be much more violent and incessant than it had been before. Rollo turned over upon his other side, and drew up his knees in such a manner as to prevent himself from rolling about quite so much, and then went to sleep again.

His sleep, however, was very much broken and disturbed, and he was at last suddenly awakened by a violent lurch of the ship, which rolled him over hard against the outer edge of his berth, and then back against the inner edge of it again. There was a sort of cord, with large knobs upon it, at different distances, which was hung like a bell cord from the back side of the berth. Rollo had observed this cord before, but he did not know what it was for. He now, however, discovered what it was for, as, by grasping these knobs in his hands, he found that the cord was an excellent thing for him to hold on by in a heavy sea. By means of this support, he found that he could moor himself, as it were, quite well, and keep himself steady when a heavy swell came.

He was not long, however, at rest, for he found that his endeavors to go to sleep were disturbed by a little door that kept swinging to and fro, in his state room, as the ship rolled. This was the door of a little cupboard under the wash stand. When the door swung open, it would strike against a board which formed the front side of the couch that has already been described. Then, when the ship rolled the other way, it would come to, and strike again upon its frame and sill. Rollo endured this noise as long as he could, and then he resolved to get up and shut the door. So he put his feet out of his berth upon the floor,—which he could easily do, as the berth that he was in was the lower one,—and sat there watching for a moment when the ship should be tolerably still. When the right moment came, he ran across to the little door, shut it, and crowded it hard into its place; then darted back to his berth again, getting there just in time to save a tremendous lurch of the ship, which would have perhaps pitched him across the state room, if it had caught him when he was in the middle of the floor.

Rollo did not have time to fasten the little door with its lock; and this seemed in fact unnecessary, for it shut so hard and tight into its place that he was quite confident that the friction would hold it, and that it would not come open again. To his great surprise, therefore, a few minutes afterwards, he heard a thumping sound, and, on turning over to see what the cause of it was, he found that the little door was loose again, and was swinging backward and forward as before. The fact was, that, although the door had shut in tight at the moment when Rollo had closed it, the space into which it had been fitted had been opened wider by the springing of the timbers and framework of the ship at the next roll, and thus set the door free again. So Rollo had to get up once more; and this time he locked the door when he had shut it, and so made it secure.

Still, however, he could not sleep. As soon as he began in the least degree to lose consciousness, so as to relax his hold upon the knobs of his cord, some heavy lurch of the sea would come, and roll him violently from side to side, and thus wake him up again. He tried to brace himself up with pillows, but he had not pillows enough. He climbed up to the upper berth, and brought down the bolster and pillow that belonged there; and thus he packed and wedged himself in. But the incessant rolling and pitching of the ship kept every thing in such a state of motion that the pillows soon worked loose again.

After making several ineffectual attempts to secure for himself a quiet and fixed position in his berth, Rollo finally concluded to shift his quarters to the other side of the state room, and try the couch. The couch had a sort of side board, which passed along the front side of it, and which was higher somewhat than the one forming the front of the berth. This board was made movable, so that it could be shifted from the front to the back side, and vice versa, at pleasure. By putting this side board back, the place became a sort of sofa or couch, and it was usually in this state during the day; but by bringing it forward, which was done at night, it became a berth, and one somewhat larger and more comfortable than the permanent berths on the other side.

So Rollo began to make preparations for a removal. He threw the bolster and pillows across first, and then, getting out of the berth, and holding firmly to the edge of it, he waited for a moment's pause in the motion of the ship; and then, when he thought that the right time had come, he ran across. It happened, however, that he made a miscalculation as to the time; for the ship was then just beginning to careen violently in the direction in which he was going, and thus he was pitched head foremost over into the couch, where he floundered about several minutes among the pillows and bolsters before he could recover the command of himself.

At last he lay down, and attempted to compose himself to sleep; but he soon experienced a new trouble. It happened that there were some cloaks and coats hanging up upon a brass hook above him, and, as the ship rolled from side to side, the lower ends of them were continually swinging to and fro, directly over Rollo's face. He tried for a time to get out of the way of them, by moving his head one way and the other; but they seemed to follow him wherever he went, and so he was obliged at last to climb up and take them all off the hook, and throw them away into a corner. Then he lay down again, thinking that he should now be able to rest in peace.

At length, when he became finally settled, and began to think at last that perhaps he should be able to go to sleep, he thought that he heard something rolling about in Jennie's state room, and also, at intervals, a mewing sound. He listened. The door between the two state rooms was always put open a little way every night, and secured so by the chambermaid, so that either of the children might call to the other if any thing were wanted. It was thus that Rollo heard the sound that came from Jennie's room. After listening a moment, he heard Jennie's voice calling to him.

"Rollo," said she, "are you awake?"

"Yes," said Rollo.

"Then I wish you would come and help my kitten. Here she is, shut up in her cage, and rolling in it all about the room."

It was even so. Jennie had put Tiger into the cage at night when she went to bed, as she was accustomed to do, and then had set the cage in the corner of the state room. The violent motion of the ship had upset the cage, and it was now rolling about from one side of the state room to the other—the poor kitten mewing piteously all the time, and wondering what could be the cause of the astonishing gyrations that she was undergoing. Maria was asleep all the time, and heard nothing of it all.

Rollo said he would get up and help the kitten. So he disengaged himself from the wedgings of pillows and bolsters in which he had been packed, and, clinging all the time to something for support, he made his way into Jennie's state room. There was a dim light shining there, which came through a pane of glass on one side of the state room, near the door. This light was not sufficient to enable Rollo to see any thing very distinctly. He however at length succeeded, by holding to the side of Jennie's berth with one hand, while he groped about the floor with the other, in finding the cage and securing it.

"I've got it," said Rollo, holding it up to the light. "It is the cage, and Tiger is in it. Poor thing! she looks frightened half to death. Would you let her out?"

"O, no," said Jennie. "She'll only be rolled about the rooms herself."

"Why, she could hold on with her claws, I should think," said Rollo.

"No," said Jennie, "keep her in the cage, and put the cage in some safe place where it can't get away."

So Rollo put the kitten into the cage, and then put the cage itself in a narrow space between the foot of the couch and the end of the state room, where he wedged it in safely with a carpet bag. Having done this, he was just about returning to his place, when he was dreadfully alarmed at the sound of a terrible concussion upon the side of the ship, succeeded by a noise as of something breaking open in his state room, and a rush of water which seemed to come pouring in there like a torrent, and falling on the floor. Rollo's first thought was that the ship had sprung a leak, and that she was filling with water, and would sink immediately. Jennie, too, was exceedingly alarmed; while Maria, who had been sound asleep all this time, started up suddenly in great terror, calling out,—

"Mercy on me! what's that?"

"I'm sure I don't know," said Rollo, "unless the ship is sinking."

Maria put out her hand and rung the bell violently. In the mean time, the noise that had so alarmed the children ceased, and nothing was heard in Rollo's room but a sort of washing sound, as of water dashed to and fro on the floor. Of course, the excessive fears which the children had felt at first were in a great measure allayed.

In a moment the chambermaid came in with a light in her hand, and asked what was the matter.

"I don't know," said Maria. "Something or other has happened in Rollo's state room. Please look in and see."

The chambermaid went in, and exclaimed, as she entered,—

"What a goose!"

"Who's a goose?" said Rollo, following her.

"I am," said the chambermaid, "for forgetting to screw up your light. But go back; you'll get wet, if you come here."

Rollo accordingly kept back in Jennie's state room, though he advanced as near to the door as he could, and looked in to see what had happened. He found that his little round window had been burst open by a heavy sea, and that a great quantity of water had rushed in. His couch, which was directly under the window, was completely drenched, and so was the floor; though most of the water, except that which was retained by the bedding and the carpet, had run off through some unseen opening below. When Rollo got where he could see, the chambermaid was busy screwing up his window tight into its place. It has already been explained that this window was formed of one small and very thick pane of glass, of an oval form, and set in an iron frame, which was attached by a hinge on one side, and made to be secured when it was shut by a strong screw and clamp on the other.

"There," said the chambermaid. "It is safe now; only you can't sleep upon the couch any more, it is so wet. You must get into your berth again. I will make you up a new bed on the couch in the morning."

Rollo accordingly clambered up into his berth again, and the chambermaid left him to himself. Presently, however, she came back with a dry pillow and bolster for him.

"What makes the ship pitch and toss about so?" said Rollo.

"Head wind and a heavy sea," said the chambermaid; "that's all."

The chambermaid then, bidding Rollo go to sleep, passed on into Jennie's state room, on her way to her own place of repose. As she went by, Maria asked if there was not a storm coming on.

"Yes," said the chambermaid, "a terrible storm."

"How long will it be before morning?" asked Jennie.

"O, it is not two bells yet," said the chambermaid. "And you had better not get up when the morning comes. You'll only be knocking about the cabins if you do. I'll bring you some breakfast when it is time."

So saying, the chambermaid went away, and, left the children and Maria to themselves.

Rollo tried for a long time after this to get to sleep, but all was in vain. He heard two bells strike, and then three, and then four. He turned over first one way, and then the other; his head aching, and his limbs cramped and benumbed from the confined and uncomfortable positions in which he was obliged to keep them. In fact, when Jennie on one occasion, just after four bells struck, being very restless and wakeful herself, ventured to speak to him in a gentle tone, and ask him whether he was asleep, he replied that he was not; that he had been trying very hard, but he could not get any thing of him asleep except his legs.

At length the gray light of the morning began to shine in at his little round window. This he was very glad to see, although it did not promise any decided relief to his misery; for the storm still continued with unabated violence. At length, when breakfast time came, the chambermaid brought in some tea and toast for Maria and for both the children. They took it, and felt much better for it—so much so, that Rollo said he meant to get up and go and see the storm.

"Well," said the chambermaid, "you may go, if you must. Dress yourself, and go on the next deck above this, and walk along the passage way that leads aft, and there you'll find a door that you can open and look out. You'll be safe there."

"Which way is aft?" asked Rollo.

"That way," replied the chambermaid, pointing.

So Rollo got up, and holding firmly to the side of his berth with one hand, and bracing himself between his berth and the side of his wash stand cupboard with his knees, as the ship lurched to and fro, he contrived to dress himself, though he was a long time in accomplishing the feat. He then told Jennie that he was going up stairs to look out at some window or door, in order to see the storm. Jennie did not make much reply, and so Rollo went away.

The ship rolled and pitched so violently that he could not stand alone for an instant. If he attempted to do so, he would be thrown against one side or the other of the cabin or passage way by the most sudden and unaccountable impulses. He finally succeeded in getting up upon the main deck, where he went into the enclosed space which has already been described. This space was closely shut up now on all sides. There were, however, two doors which led from it out upon the deck. In order to go up upon the promenade deck, it was necessary to go out at one of these doors, and then ascend the promenade deck stairway. Rollo had, however, no intention of doing this, though he thought that perhaps he might open one of the doors a little and look out.

While he was thinking of this, he heard steps behind him as of some one coming up stairs, and then a voice, saying,—

"Halloo, Rollo! Are you up here?"

Rollo turned round and saw Hilbert. He was clinging to the side of the doorway. Rollo himself was upon one of the settees.

Just then one of the outer doors opened, and a man came in. He was an officer of the ship. A terrible gust of wind came in with him. The officer closed the door again immediately, and seeing the boys, he said to them,—

"Well, boys, you are pretty good sailors, to be about the ship such weather as this."

"I'm going up on the promenade deck," said Hilbert.

"No," said the officer, "you had better do no such thing. You will get pitched into the lee scuppers before you know where you are."

"Is there any place where we can look out and see the sea?" said Rollo.

"Yes," replied the officer; "go aft, there, along that passage way, and you will find a door on the lee quarter where you can look out."

So saying, the officer went away down into the cabin.

Hilbert did not know what was meant by getting pitched into the lee scuppers, and Rollo did not know what the lee quarter could be. He however determined to go in the direction that the man had indicated, and see if he could find the door.

As for Hilbert, he said to Rollo that he was not afraid of the lee scuppers or any other scuppers, and he was going up on the promenade deck. There was an iron railing, he said, that he could cling to all the way.

Rollo, in the mean time, went along the passage way, bracing his arms against the sides of it as he advanced. The ship was rolling over from side to side so excessively that he was borne with his whole weight first against one side of the passage way, and then against the other, so heavily that he was every moment obliged to stop and wait until the ship came up again before he could go on. At length he came into a small room with several doors opening from it. In the back side of this room was the compartment where the helmsman stood with his wheel. There were several men in this place with the helmsman, helping him to control the wheel. Rollo observed, too, that there were a number of large rockets put away in a sort of frame in the coil overhead.

He went to one of the doors that was on the right-hand side of this room, and opened it a little way; but the wind and rain came in so violently that he thought he would go to the opposite side and try that door. This idea proved a very fortunate one, for, being now on the sheltered side of the ship, he could open the door and look out without exposing himself to the fury of the storm. He gazed for a time at the raging fury of the sea with a sentiment of profound admiration and awe. The surface of the ocean was covered with foam, and the waves were tossing themselves up in prodigious heaps; the crests, as fast as they were formed, being seized and hurled away by the wind in a mass of driving spray, which went scudding over the water like drifting snow in a wintry storm on land.

After Rollo had looked upon this scene until he was satisfied, he shut the door, and returned along the passage way, intending to go down and give Jennie an account of his adventures. As he advanced toward the little compartment where the landing was, from the stairs, he heard a sound as of some one in distress, and on drawing near he found Hilbert coming in perfectly drenched with sea water. He was moaning and crying bitterly, and, as he staggered along, the water dripped from his clothes in streams. Rollo asked him what was the matter; but he could get no answer. Hilbert pressed on sullenly, crying and groaning as he went down to find his father.



The matter was, that, in attempting to go up on the promenade deck, he had unfortunately taken the stairway on the weather side; and when he had got half way up, a terrible sea struck the ship just forward of the paddle box. A portion of the wave, and an immense mass of spray, dashed up on board the ship, and a quantity equal to several barrels of water came down upon the stairs where Hilbert was ascending. The poor fellow was almost strangled by the shock. He however clung manfully to the rope railing, and as soon as he recovered his breath he came back into the cabin.



CHAPTER IX.

THE PASSENGERS' LOTTERY.

One morning, a few days after the storm described in the last chapter, Rollo was sitting upon one of the settees that stood around the skylight on the promenade deck, secured to their places by lashings of spun yarn, as has already been described, and was there listening to a conversation which was going on between two gentlemen that were seated on the next settee. The morning was very pleasant. The sun was shining, the air was soft and balmy, and the surface of the water was smooth. There was so little wind that the sails were all furled—for, in the case of a steamer at sea, the wind, even if it is fair, cannot help to impel the ship at all, unless it moves faster than the rate which the paddle wheels would of themselves carry her; and if it moves slower than this, of course, the steamer would by her own progress outstrip it, and the sails, if they were spread, would only be pressed back against the masts by the onward progress of the vessel, and thus her motion would only be retarded by them.

The steamer, on the day of which we are speaking, was going on very smoothly and rapidly by the power of her engines alone, and all the passengers were in excellent spirits. There was quite a company of them assembled at a place near one of the paddle boxes where smoking was allowed. Some were seated upon a settee that was placed there against the side of the paddle box, and others were standing around them. They were nearly all smoking, and, as they smoked, they were talking and laughing very merrily. Hilbert was among them, and he seemed to be listening very eagerly to what they were saying. Rollo was very strongly inclined to go out there, too, to hear what the men were talking about; but he was so much interested in what the gentlemen were saying who were near him, that he concluded to wait till they had finished their conversation, and then go.

The gentlemen who were near him were talking about the rockets—the same rockets that Rollo had seen when he went back to the stern of the ship to look out at the sea, on the day of the storm. One of the men, who had often been at sea before, and who seemed to be well acquainted with all nautical affairs, said that the rockets were used to throw lines from one ship to another, or from a ship to the shore, in case of wrecks or storms. He said that sometimes at sea a steamer came across a wrecked vessel, or one that was disabled, while yet there were some seamen or passengers still alive on board. These men would generally be seen clinging to the decks, or lashed to the rigging. In such cases the sea was often in so frightful a commotion that no boat could live in it; and there was consequently no way to get the unfortunate mariners off their vessel but by throwing a line across, and then drawing them over in some way or other along the line. He said that the sailors had a way of making a sort of sling, by which a man could be suspended under such a line with loops or rings, made of rope, and so adjusted that they would run along upon it; and that by this means men could be drawn across from one ship to another, at sea, if there was only a line stretched across for the rings to run upon.

Now, the rockets were used for the purpose of throwing such a line. A small light line was attached to the stick of the rocket, and then the rocket itself was fired, being pointed in such a manner as to go directly over the wrecked ship. If it was aimed correctly, it would fall down so as to carry the small line across the ship. Then the sailors on board the wrecked vessel would seize it, and by means of it would draw the end of a strong line over, and thus effect the means of making their escape. It was, however, a very dreadful alternative, after all; for the rope forming this fearful bridge would of course be subject all the time to the most violent jerkings, from the rolling and pitching of the vessels to which the two extremities of it were attached, and the unhappy men who had to be drawn over by means of it would be perhaps repeatedly struck and overwhelmed by the foaming surges on the way.

While Rollo was listening to this conversation, Hilbert's father and another gentleman who had been walking with him up and down the deck came and sat down on one of the settees. Very soon, Hilbert, seeing his father sitting there, came eagerly to him, and said, holding out his hand,—

"Father, I want you to give me half a sovereign."

"Half a sovereign!" repeated his father; "what do you want of half a sovereign?"

A sovereign is the common gold coin of England. The value of it is a pound, or nearly five dollars; and half a sovereign is, of course, in value about equal to two dollars and a half of American money.

"I want to get a ticket," said Hilbert. "Come, father, make haste," he added, with many impatient looks and gestures, and still holding out his hand.

"A ticket? what ticket?" asked his father. As he asked these questions, he put his hand in his pocket and drew out an elegant little purse.

"Why, they are going to have a lottery about the ship's run, to-day," replied Hilbert, "and I want a ticket. The tickets are half a sovereign apiece, and the one who gets the right one will have all the half sovereigns. There will be twenty of them, and that will make ten pounds."

"Nearly fifty dollars," said his father; "and what can you do with all that money, if you get it? O, no, Hibby; I can't let you have any money for that. And besides, these lotteries, and the betting about the run of the ship, are as bad as gambling. They are gambling, in fact."

"Why, father," said Hilbert, "you bet, very often."

Mr. Livingston, for that was his father's name, and his companion, the gentleman who was sitting with him, laughed at hearing this; and the gentleman said,—

"Ah, George, he has you there."

Even Hilbert looked pleased at the effect which his rejoinder had produced. In fact, he considered his half sovereign as already gained.

"O, let him have the half sovereign," continued the gentleman. "He'll find some way to spend the ten pounds, if he gets them, I'll guaranty."

So Mr. Livingston gave Hilbert the half sovereign, and he, receiving it with great delight, ran away.

The plan of the lottery, which the men at the paddle box were arranging, was this. In order, however, that the reader may understand it perfectly, it is necessary to make a little preliminary explanation in respect to the mode of keeping what is called the reckoning of ships and steamers at sea. When a vessel leaves the shore at New York, and loses sight of the Highlands of Neversink, which is the land that remains longest in view, the mariners that guide her have then more than two thousand miles to go, across a stormy and trackless ocean, with nothing whatever but the sun and stars, and their own calculations of their motion, to guide them. Now, unless at the end of the voyage they should come out precisely right at the lighthouse or at the harbor which they aim at, they might get into great difficulty or danger. They might run upon rocks where they expected a port, or come upon some strange and unknown land, and be entirely unable to determine which way to turn in order to find their destined haven.

The navigators could, however, manage this all very well, provided they could be sure of seeing the sun every day at proper times, particularly at noon. The sun passes through different portions of the sky every different day of the year, rising to a higher point at noon in the summer, and to a lower one in the winter. The place of the sun, too, in the sky, is different according as the observer is more to the northward or southward. For inasmuch as the sun, to the inhabitants of northern latitudes, always passes through the southern part of the sky, if one person stands at a place one hundred or five hundred miles to the southward of another, the sun will, of course, appear to be much higher over his head to the former than to the latter. The farther north, therefore, a ship is at sea, the lower in the sky, that is, the farther down toward the south, the sun will be at noon.

Navigators, then, at sea, always go out upon the deck at noon, if the sun is out, with a very curious and complicated instrument, called a sextant, in their hands; and with this instrument they measure exactly the distance from the sun at noon down to the southern horizon. This is called making an observation. When the observation is made, the captain takes the number of degrees and minutes, and goes into his state room; and there, by the help of certain tables contained in books which he always keeps there for the purpose, he makes a calculation, and finds out the exact latitude of the ship; that is, where she is, in respect to north and south. There are other observations and calculations by which he determines the longitude; that is, where the ship is in respect to east and west. When both these are determined, he can find the precise place on the chart where the vessel is, and so—inasmuch as he had ascertained by the same means where she was the day before—he can easily calculate how far she has come during the twenty-four hours between one noon and another. These calculations are always made at noon, because that is the time for making the observations on the sun. It takes about an hour to make the calculations. The passengers on board the ship during this interval are generally full of interest and curiosity to know the result. They come out from their lunch at half past twelve, and then they wait the remaining half hour with great impatience. They are eager to know how far they have advanced on their voyage since noon of the day before.

In order to let the passengers know the result, when it is determined, the captain puts up a written notice, thus:—

Latitude, 44 deg. 26'. Longitude, 16 deg. 31'. Distance, 270.

The passengers, on seeing this notice, which is called a bulletin, know at once, from the first two items, whereabouts on the ocean they are; and from the last they learn that the distance which the ship has come since the day before is 270 miles.

This plan of finding out the ship's place every day, and of ascertaining the distance which she has sailed since the day before, would be perfectly successful, and amply sufficient for all the purposes required, if the sun could always be seen when the hour arrived for making the observation; but this is not the fact. The sky is often obscured by clouds for many days in succession; and, in fact, it sometimes happens that the captain has scarcely an opportunity to get a good observation during the whole voyage. There is, therefore, another way by which the navigator can determine where the ship is, and how fast she gets along on her voyage.

This second method consists of actually measuring the progress of the ship through the water, by an instrument called the log and line. The log—which, however, is not any log at all, but only a small piece of board, loaded at one edge so as to float upright in the water—has a long line attached to it, which line is wound upon a light windlass called a reel. The line, except a small portion of it at the beginning is marked off into lengths by small knots made in it at regular intervals. There are little rags of different forms and colors tied into these knots, so that they may easily be seen, and may also be distinguished one from the other.

When the time comes for performing the operation of heaving the log, as they call it, the men appointed for the purpose bring the log and the reel to the stern of the ship. One man holds the log, and another man the reel. There are two handles, one at each end of the reel, by which the man who serves it can hold it up over his head, and let the line run off from it. Besides the two men who hold the log and the reel, there is a third, who has a minute glass in his hand. The minute glass is like an hour glass, only there is but just sand enough in it to run a minute. The man who has the minute glass holds it upon its side at first, so as not to set the sand to running until all is ready.



At length the man who holds the log throws it over into the water, and the ship, sailing onward all the time, leaves it there, floating edge upwards. The man who holds the reel lifts it up high, so that the line can run off easily as the ship moves on. As soon as the first rag runs off, which denotes the beginning of the marked point of the line, he calls out suddenly,—

"Turn!"

This is the command to the man who holds the minute glass to turn it so as to set the sand to running. He accordingly instantly changes the position of the glass, and holds it perpendicularly, and immediately sets himself to watching the running out of the sand. The instant it is gone, he calls out,—

"Stop!"

The man who is holding the reel, and another who stands by ready to help him, instantly stop the line, and begin to draw it in. They observe how many knots have run out, and they know from this how many miles an hour the ship is going. Each knot goes for a mile.

They do not have to count the knots that have run out. They can always determine, by the form and color of the last one that passed, what knot it is. One of the men goes immediately and reports to the captain that the ship is going so many knots, and the captain makes a record of it. The other men at once begin to draw in the line, which brings the log in also at the end of it. This line comes in very hard, for the friction of so long a cord, dragged so swiftly through the water, is very great. It generally takes four or five men to pull the line in. These men walk along the deck, one behind the other, with the line over their shoulders; and at first they have to tug very hard. The reel man winds the line upon the reel as fast as they draw it in. It comes in more and more easily as the part that is in the water grows shorter; and at length the log itself is soon skipping through the foam in the wake of the ship, until it comes up out of the water and is taken on board.