But, of all the birds they saw, the albatross was the most wonderful to observe. Not much larger than a goose in the size of its body, it had enormous thin-edged wings, that enabled it to float about in the air, at will apparently, without any perceptible motion, for hours at a stretch. It seemed to direct its course by the slightest possible turning of its body, so as to alter the inclination of its wings, which, extending out straight and firm, bore the bird up or down, or away many miles off in a second of time, in the most surprising manner.
The albatross floats, or skims along the air, but does not fly according to our ideas, although it has an extraordinary power of launching itself from enormous heights down to the level of the sea with the velocity of lightning.
“Just like a white-winged messenger of light,” as Kate Meldrum observed in the hearing of Captain Dinks, “sent out from the angelic host above on some divine mission to suffering humanity below!”
“Ah; that sounds very pretty, missy,” said the captain; “but the albatross’ mission happens to be fish; and I fancy that spoils the sentiment a bit!”
Eighteen days after passing the line, some seven weeks from her start, the Nancy Bell crossed the meridian of Greenwich, or longitude zero—at which precise time her position could not be said to be either east or west—in latitude 38 degrees south, a couple of degrees below the Cape; and the wind, which had kept steadily from the north-east and northward ever since the South American coast had been left astern, now got well round to the south-west, enabling every stitch of canvas to draw, from the spanker to the flying jib. Seeing this Captain Dinks caused the upper yards to be squared a bit and the main and fore top-gallant studding-sails set, thus helping the vessel on her way.
This sort of weather lasted for five days, the ship being steered east by south, meeting the sun and losing an hour a day by the chronometer and going twelve knots each hour out of the twenty-four; when on reaching the longitude of the Cape “a change came o’er the spirit” of the Nancy Bell’s “dream.”
The wind shifted suddenly from the south-west to the north-east; and the heavy rolling sea, peculiar to the Southern Ocean, set in, accompanied by showers of rain, and hail, and snow. Soon, sail had to be reduced, and the ship, with all her gay canvas stripped off her, had as much as she could do to stagger along under reefed topsails and foresail, the mizzen staysail being set to give her more power aft, her steering becoming very wild after a bit although two men were at the helm.
From merely looking squally, the clouds gathering on the horizon grew thicker and thicker, till they got as black as ink. The sea, also, darkened to a dark leaden hue, and the swell increased so rapidly in height that when the vessel sank down into the intermediate valley not a glimpse could be obtained of anything beyond the watery mountains on either side.
“I guess we’re going to have it pretty rough, Cap, eh,” said the American to Captain Dinks; “it looks all-powerful squally, it dew!”
“You’re right,” said the captain. “We’re now in the vicinity of the Cape of Storms, and we’ve got to look out.”