“Well, mother, the sharks are cruel, too,” said Jerry; “and the sailors don’t have any love for them, I can tell you. The rascals would eat a man just as quick as anything else, if they could get a chance. They’d snap a leg off just as a boy bites a stick of candy, and they’d finish the rest of him in two or three mouthfuls.
“A day or two after that, we caught an albatross. There were several of them that had been following us three or four days. They are a curious bird. They are very large, and their wings opened from twelve to fifteen feet. We sailed at the rate of about two hundred miles a day, for several days running, and yet these birds kept up with us all the time. But they went more than double the distance that we did, because they kept making circles round us for miles, and then coming back in our wake. They follow vessels to pick up the stuff that is thrown overboard. One of our men baited a hook with a piece of salt pork, and towed it from the stern by a strong line. In a few minutes one of the birds swallowed the bait, and we pulled him on deck. He was a monstrous fellow, but he didn’t try to defend himself only by biting at us a little. He was so clumsy he couldn’t stand up on the deck. He had great webbed feet. The sailors began to skin his feet, to make purses, before the poor fellow was dead.”
“Oh, what hard-hearted wretches!” exclaimed Emily.
“Well, I must hurry along with my yarn,” said Jerry, “or I shan’t get through to-night. We crossed the line,—the equator, I suppose you call it,—and I was introduced to King Neptune, and was shaved and washed by him in great style; but I can’t stop to tell you about that, now. Every greenhorn has to go through the ceremony the first time he crosses the line. We didn’t have any very rough weather till after we had passed Cape St. Roque. Do you know where that is, Emily? Get your atlas, and I’ll show you.”
Emily brought her school atlas, and found Cape St. Roque, the extreme eastern point of South America, about five degrees below the equator.
“A day or two after we passed the cape,” continued Jerry, “it grew rough and stormy, and finally settled down into a regular gale. The sea ran as high as the mast-head, and I thought we should be swallowed up every moment. The brig lay down on her side so that you couldn’t stand still nor walk without holding on to something. The wind blew terribly, the rain poured down in torrents, the sea dashed over the deck, and every rope and plank seemed to creak as though the brig was just going to pieces. It was pretty shaky business, I can tell you, going up aloft then, and hanging to the yards and ropes, but we had to do it. And for two days we didn’t one of us get any rest or put on a rag of dry clothing. In the height of the storm, our maintop and topgallant masts, with the yards and rigging, came down with a crash to the deck, and nearly killed one of the crew. I thought our time had come then, certainly, but we cut away the wreck, and made everything all snug again. Soon after that, the captain discovered that we had sprung a leak, and all hands had to take their turn at the pumps. That came pretty hard, worn out as we were, but it was pump or sink with us, and there was no get-off.
“The next day after we sprung a leak, the gale began to die away, and our captain made up his mind to run into Rio for repairs. Do you know where that is, Emily?”
“Rio Janeiro? Yes; here it is,—it’s the capital of Brazil,” replied Emily, looking upon the map.