The Bussorah Merchant did not, however, as many ships do, touch at Rio de Janeiro; but passing through another belt of calms at the Tropic of Capricorn, kept away eastward towards the Cape of Good Hope. One evening, while I was keeping watch under the first officer—for I was considered fit to take regular duty on board—the ship running at the rate of four or five knots an hour through the water, I heard a sound as if substances were falling upon the deck. As I went to windward, a large dark object, wet and cold, struck me on the shoulder, and then fell down. I instantly sung out; when the boatswain, who was on deck, brought a lantern; and there, to the surprise of all of us, a dozen or more cuttle fish were found, which had sprung over the weather bulwark.
“Well,” exclaimed Mr Tarbox, “I never did see such a thing as this before.”
Mr Hooker, however, said that he had heard of it, as the creatures can spring an immense distance. “I have known some,” he said, “to spring right over a ship; though, certainly, to look at them, it is difficult to ascertain their means of rising out of the water.”
The island of Tristan da Cunha was sighted, looming in the evening light like some huge monster rising out of the ocean. Looking over the sides the water appeared unusually clear; and I could see, far down, the fish swimming about by the side of the ship. Even Mr Hooker, however, did not succeed in catching any. The stormy petrel now made its appearance; and I and Emily and Grace were delighted soon afterwards to see a magnificent white bird with outstretched wings following the ship. “An albatross! an albatross!” I shouted, for I guessed at once what it was. Mr Hooker said he wished to catch two or three and prepare them to send back to England by the Bussorah Merchant. He accordingly made preparations to catch them.
“I should not like to shoot one though,” I remarked. “You remember what became of the ‘Ancient Mariner’ who shot an albatross; how his ship floated all alone on the ocean day after day, and week after week, and month after month, till all on board had died and he alone remained.”
“Oh no; pray don’t!” exclaimed Emily, “lest so dreadful a fate should overtake us.”
“It is only a fancy of the poet’s, perhaps,” I remarked. “At the same time I like to try and believe it.”
“I hope the same fate does not overtake those who catch the bird with a bait. It is his own fault, recollect, if he swallows it,” said Mr Hooker, who had now got a strong line with a hook and a piece of meat on it, with a float to keep it from sinking. This he now veered astern. I could not help admiring the wondrous power exhibited by the bird as it glided on without flapping its wings. Now one was seen to dash down at a piece of refuse which the cook had thrown overboard, slowly again to rise and then to follow the ship, apparently without the slightest exertion.
“That gives me an idea,” said Mr Hooker, throwing a large piece of fat overboard before he let go his baited hook. Again the albatross darted down on it; and then, without rising again, swam vigorously after the baited hook.
“There—he has snapped it up!” I exclaimed.