The
sailors on board of her were hauling on ropes to brace the yards,
which just cleared the sloop's mast as she swept by. No one hailed
from the white-winged flier, but I heard some one on board say that he
saw lights on the sloop, and that he made her out to be a fisherman. I
sat long on the starlit deck that night, thinking of ships, and
watching the constellations on their voyage.
On the following day, September 13, a large four-masted ship passed
some distance to windward, heading north.
The sloop was now rapidly drawing toward the region of doldrums, and
the force of the trade-winds was lessening. I could see by the ripples
that a counter-current had set in. This I estimated to be about
sixteen miles a day. In the heart of the counter-stream the rate was
more than that setting eastward.
September 14 a lofty three-masted ship, heading north, was seen from
the masthead. Neither this ship nor the one seen yesterday was within
signal distance, yet it was good even to see them. On the following
day heavy rain-clouds rose in the south, obscuring the sun; this was
ominous of doldrums. On the 16th the _Spray_ entered this gloomy
region, to battle with squalls and to be harassed by fitful calms; for
this is the state of the elements between the northeast and the
southeast trades, where each wind, struggling in turn for mastery,
expends its force whirling about in all directions. Making this still
more trying to one's nerve and patience, the sea was tossed into
confused cross-lumps and fretted by eddying currents.
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