There are twenty sails on this ship. I love to lie down on deck, and look at them; and I think it is a beautiful sight to see them all spread and filled with wind. It almost seems as if their tops touched the sky. All the masts and sails and ropes have names. I am sure it would take me a good while to learn them; but all the sailors know them.
When the captain wants a sail changed, he gives the order in a very loud tone; then the first mate, who is never very far from the captain, repeats the order; and then the sailors run quickly to the ropes and pull away, and sing while they pull; and the sail goes up or down, just as the captain wants it.
Every hour a sailor takes his turn at steering the ship: so there is always one man at the wheel. There is a large bell swung just in front of him, which he strikes every half-hour to mark the time. When it is twelve o'clock, he strikes the bell eight times; and it is eight bells again at four o'clock and at eight o'clock. The first hour after eight bells is two bells; the second, four bells; the third, six bells; and the half-hours strike the odd numbers,—three, five, and seven bells. It is a very funny way to tell time, I think.
One day the captain slung a hammock on deck, and we had a nice time swinging in it. Another day, when the sea was very calm, he hung a rope from the rigging, and made a real swing for us. We have long fish-lines which we throw over the ship's side. Once a gentleman on board caught a beautiful dolphin, all green and blue and gold. The steward made a nice chowder out of the dolphin for our lunch, and we had baked dolphin for dinner that day.
Thanksgiving Eve a little lamb was born on board. The sailors named it "Thanksgiving," for the day. It is a dear little lamb now,—so white and gentle! We have tied a blue ribbon around its neck, and it will run all over the deck after us, and go to sleep in our laps. There is a cunning little pig, too, which I call "Dennis," after the pig that I read about in "The Nursery." I wish it were really the same wonderful little pig; but mamma says she does not think it can be.
I must tell you about the beautiful bouquet the steward made for our Thanksgiving dinner. It was made out of vegetables with a knife—yellow roses from carrots, and white roses, japonicas, and tuberoses from turnips and potatoes. Some of the petals he dipped into beet-water, and so made blush roses of them. Then he made two canary-birds of carrots, and perched them among the flowers. Mamma said that she had seen many a cluster of wax flowers that were not as beautiful.
Perhaps I will write again when we arrive at Honolulu.
Rose.
