"Ahoy!" bellowed our captain, so gently back again through the ship's trumpet, that the best "bull of Bashan" might have envied him his roar.
"What ship's that?"
"The Plato of Portland," with a second bellow which was a very manifest improvement upon the preceding.
"Where bound?"
"New-Orleans!"
Now came our turn to play the querist. "What ship's that?"
"The J. L., eleven days from New-York, bound to New-Orleans."
"Ay, ay—any news?"
"No, nothing particular."
We again moved on in silence; sailing in company, but not always in sight of each other, during the remainder of the night.