I have been in many dangers and suffered numerous hardships since then, some of which are narrated in this book, but I have never felt quite so wretched and miserable as on the morning of our departure from Callao. Wishing to divert my thoughts, Jose pointed out the beauties of the bay and the shore; but my gaze went far inland--to the lonely home where my mother sat with her grief, to the mighty cordillera where my father lay dead. Time softened the pain, and brought back the pleasures of life, but just then it seemed as if I should never laugh or sing or be merry again. The first day or two on the _Aguila_ did not tend to make me more cheerful, though the skipper did what he could to make us comfortable. We slept in a dirty little box, which was really the mate's cabin, and had our meals, or at least Jose had, at the captain's table. By degrees, however, my sickness wore off, and on the fourth morning I began to take an interest in things. By this time the land was out of sight; for miles and miles the blue water lay around us--an interminable stretch. There was not a sail to be seen, and the utter loneliness impressed me with a feeling of awe. Jose was as ignorant of seafaring matters as myself; but the captain said we were making a good voyage, and with that we were content. A stiff breeze blew the schooner along merrily, the blue sky was flecked only by the softest white clouds, and the swish, swish of the water against the vessel's sides sounded pleasantly in our ears. I began to think there were worse ways of earning a living than by going to sea. That same evening I turned in early, leaving Jose on deck, but I was still awake when he entered the cabin. "There's an ugly storm brewing," said he, kicking off his boots, "and I don't think the skipper much likes the prospect of it. He has all hands at work taking in the sails and getting things ready generally. Rather a lucky thing for us that the _Aguila_ is a stout boat. Listen! That's the first blast!" as the schooner staggered and reeled. Above us we heard the captain shouting orders, the answering cries of the sailors, and the groaning of the timbers, as if the ship were a living being stretched on a rack. Slipping out of my bunk and dressing quickly, I held on to a bar to steady myself. "Let us go on deck before they batten down the hatches," said Jose, putting on his boots again. "I've no mind to stay in this hole. If the ship sinks, we shall be drowned like rats in a trap."