Throughout the day we were in sight of the ironbound coast, which from a distance presented an uninviting aspect. Owing to the abundance of pyrites along the cliffs there is said to be a danger of great deviation of the compass, and in our case we found, by taking a series of azimuths and amplitudes, that such was the case.
Fortunately, there was no sign of mist, so that a compass course was not absolutely necessary; but that evening the wind fell almost to a dead calm, and the darkness was so intense that the "Fortuna's" head was placed a point off the recognized course to prevent possible accidents.
It was a glorious night. The air was soft and balmy, and, though there were no stars visible, there was a curious phosphorescence on the water that compensated for the inky darkness of the atmosphere. In fact, it was the first evening of the voyage that could be termed splendid, and at dinner in the saloon we had skylights and ports opened to admit the air.
Presently came the sound of stringed instruments played with decided skill and expression. We looked at one another with astonishment, for music was one of the last things we expected to hear.
"Mr. Wilkins!" called my uncle through the skylight.
"Aye, aye, sir," replied the bos'n, descending the companion.
"What's that noise?"
"The watch below have got up a small band," explained the bos'n. "Shall I pass the word for them to knock off?"
"Oh, no; far from it," said my father. "But where on earth did they get the instruments from?
"Made 'em from 'baccy-boxes and bits of wire, sir. It's an old seaman's trick."