As in all lands lying in the warm latitudes, the works of nature are found in greater and more vigorous beauty than beneath our colder and melancholy skies, so also do the tropical seas present appearances never seen in the northern waters. If a storm arises, the whole creation seems to be dissolving. No words can be found adequate to describe the scene, or in any measure to convey the frightful experience the sailor has to undergo. But on the other hand, in clear and calm weather, the tropical sea 171 presents an aspect of gorgeousness and grandeur, with which the loveliest natural scenery of a northern climate cannot compare. Here the rising of the sun from his bed of waves, presents a spectacle that fills the heart with reverence and awe at the same time that it swells with rapture of the purest kind. The thick clouds that rested like a veil of darkness upon the illimitable surface of the sea, at the coming of the god of day, disperse in their vapors. The twinkling stars grow paler as he approaches, the dark gray color of the water changes to a cheerful blue, and streaks of clear purple are seen in the east, increasing each moment to a varied hue, and as the horizon brightens, darkness flies far from the bosom of the waters. Suddenly rays of glorious light break forth from heaven and pour their golden glory on the sea, the sun rises in his glowing strength above the bank of purple clouds, and as they disperse themselves over the azure firmament, various are the shapes, whether beautiful or grotesque, that they assume. One can imagine he sees towns, hills, castles with tall towers, ships, and a thousand other objects in their flitting shapes, but yet scarcely formed ere they lose their evanescent beauty both of form and color, as the sun mounts above the horizon.
The animal kingdom of the tropical ocean is extraordinarily rich and varied. The sea birds are distinguished by their size, and beauty of plumage, and greatly surpass those that belong to the north. Thousands of flying fish spring above the surface, in order to escape some lurking enemy below, only to find their death on the deck of the ship, but oftener to fall an easy prey to some rapacious 172 bird. Nothing can equal the gay colors of the Bonito and Dorado, a smaller kind of ravenous fish peculiar to the Southern seas, and which are always found in close pursuit of their neighbors, the flying fish. With what enchantment does the astonished spectator fasten his gaze upon the lightly moving waters. His eye penetrates the depths that lie far below the crystal surface, and is lost in wonder at beholding the myriads of living creatures with which the mighty ocean teems! Not a moment but what presents some new and interesting subject for inquiry or contemplation, thus breaking in pleasantly on the otherwise monotonous current of sea life.
So the day passes over, full of interest, if man will only take the trouble to secure it; and the sun that here regularly measures his diurnal course in twelve hours, is declining to his setting. Again the attendant clouds, that at times assume the appearance of burning volcanoes, gather around him, as though to curtain him as he sinks to rest, but as his glancing rays reflected on the smooth water are refracted in gushing vapors, thousands of fireballs seemed to rise as from a crater, and streams of burning lava to flow into the ocean. At length the sun is hidden beneath the waves; for a few minutes the western horizon is like a sea of glowing purple, and then night comes, shrouding all in her darksome veil. But there is no gloom; thousands of stars far brighter than those of northern lands glitter in the firmament, and are mirrored in the chrystal waters; fiery meteors dart through the heavens, and the whole surface of the ocean is covered with luminous insects.
Pleasant as is life on shipboard, even in a slow voyage, when with sufficient wind, which is mostly the case in this latitude, to keep the vessel moving, bringing refreshing coolness to the sailor, and spreading life and healthful motion over the sea; not less uncomfortable is the condition of a vessel when becalmed, as is not seldom the case for many weeks together. With heavy heart the mariner sees the breeze that so lately rippled the waves, gradually die away, and leave the bosom of the ocean calm as a slumbering lake. The sails hang flapping from the yards, the sea is motionless, presenting a dull expanse of water as far as the eye can reach, and no zephyrs float through the atmosphere to give relief from the burning rays of the sun. The ship lies like a log on the water, the discontent and murmurs of the crew increase every day, and in vain do they try to drive the tedium away by practising all sorts of diversion. But the night brings some relief, not only in her calm beauty, but cooling dews refresh the heated atmosphere, and the moon and stars shine forth in unsurpassable glory in the cloudless heavens.
On the first of October, we passed the equator. Neptune, as is his custom with all ships, honored us with a visit. With the early twilight, we heard a deep bass voice that seemed to rise up out of the waves, hail the ship in true nautical style. The helmsman answered through his speaking trumpet, to the usual questions of where we were bound, and from whence we had sailed. Two of the ship boys were listening with all their ears, and peering curiously but vainly over the bulwarks in order to get a sight of old Neptune. At length the voice from the bowsprit made 174 itself more audible, and in the following manner. “I see that there are a few on board that have never before been in my territory, and must submit to the regulations I demand, as it becomes them to do.” As the last words were uttered a gigantic figure, his head covered with a periwig of knotted sea-grass, with a false nose, and his face painted in various colors, now ascended the ship’s side, and clambered on deck. He carried a speaking trumpet of three feet long in his right hand, under his left arm was a few thick books, and from the leg of his boot a huge wooden compass protruded itself. A masculine woman in whose soot-begrimed lineaments I, with some trouble, recognized those of our boatswain, personating Amphitrite, followed the god of the sea, carrying a long lubberly boy in her arms, wrapped up in an old sail. They were introduced to us by Neptune as his wife and son. Having advanced to the after deck, where the sailors were assembled, he opened one of his colossal books and spread an old sea chart out upon the deck. “Hallo, helmsman,” he inquired, “what is your latitude and longitude?” The answer being given, he grumbled something as he pulled his huge compass from his boot, and having carefully measured his old chart, at last struck a hole in it, as he exclaimed, “Here you are––all right––what course are you steering?” “South, south-east!” “You must go four degrees to westward––you will have a better wind,” growled Neptune, and therewith he doubled up the chart, and stuck the compass in his boot again. “I must see after my new circumnavigators,” he added in the same gruff tone as he turned his eyes on the two before-mentioned boys and one 175 old sailor who, although he had followed the sea for twelve years, had never, until now, crossed the equator; “we must make a nearer acquaintance.”
The name, birth, and age of each being inquired into, and duly registered in one of the large books, each one after having his eyes blindfolded, was led by the sailors to the forecastle and seated on a plank, under which was placed a large tub of water. The next operation was to shave them, and accordingly their faces were smeared over with a horrible mixture of shoemaker’s wax, train oil and soot, most ungently laid on with a coarse painter’s brush. Neptune then performed the office of barber himself, taking a long piece of iron which had once served as the hoop of a tun, he scraped their chins in the most unmerciful manner.
No sooner was this operation ended, then they pulled away the props of the plank on which the three tyros were seated, so that they fell over head and ears in the tub of water below, and thus received what the sailors call a “genuine Neptune’s baptism.” After all these ceremonies he turned as if to go, but the young sea-god at this moment set up a most fearful outcry––he bawled as loud and lustily as any mortal. “Just listen,” said Neptune; “now I cannot go back to my cave in peace, but that cub will roar and bellow the whole night, so as to disturb all the waves below,––nothing even quiets him but a stiff glass of grog, for he likes that far better than sea water.”
The captain understood the hint; he laughed and nodded to the steward. Young Neptune continued his lamentation nearly a quarter of an hour; I saw one of the cabin 176 servants carrying a smoking bowl of punch to the foredeck, and the joyful shouts and loud hurrah that attested how welcome was its reception, reached us who were in the cabin below.
On the following day as the ship, driven by a light wind, moved lazily through the waters, we observed two large sharks following in her wake. The sailors were at great pains to take them, but greatly to the vexation of themselves and the passengers who entered quite as eagerly into this sport as themselves, the cunning fish disdained the bait and swam slowly away. To my enquiries of why they had not seized upon the meat thrown out as lure, sharks having always been represented as voracious and greedy, one of the passengers answered,