This roaring of the wind aloft when it is blowing very hard is resolvable into several different tones: the heavy shrouds taking the base, the somewhat lighter backstays resembling the barytone, the halliards and braces standing for the tenor, while the buntlines and clew-lines take the part of a piercing falsetto, as shrill as a thousand piccolos; the whole blending into a resonant chorus of orchestral power, with grand, majestic crescendi like the double open diapason of a cathedral organ. Latitude 32° 35′ south; longitude, 44° 50′ west. +June 25+ The question which agitates us at this moment is, are we going to have another pampero? for it is breezing up fast from west-southwest, the same old quarter. We didn’t have much wind this forenoon, but by dinner-time it freshened so that at one o’clock the skipper said to the mate in tones of despair, “Get that upper mizzentop-sail in, Mr. Goggins”; and no sooner were the men down on deck again than came the order, “Reef the foretop-sail.” All hands were on deck, and the foreshrouds were instantly filled with the yellow figures scurrying aloft, and in half an hour the ship was once more under snug canvas. At four yesterday afternoon, chancing to look under the foot of the main-sail, my wife and I saw a large four-masted bark under top-gallant-sails bound north and steering in such a way as to pass within easy signalling distance; and the skipper lost no time in appearing on deck in answer to a summons, at once ordering the ship’s number to be made. On came the stranger, and in a few minutes we could see that she had lost her mizzen-royal, yard, mast, and everything. She was a very ugly vessel, narrow and dingy, built of wood, with a curious stern like nothing we had ever seen before, and no more apparent sheer than a billiard-table. Very soon she was abreast of us, but no answering flags fluttered from her gaff, and we wondered what manner of ship this was thus to ignore signals. We thought that she was going to pass us by completely unnoticed, when there crawled feebly to her spanker-gaff the green, white, and red banner of Italy. The meaning of this manœuvre was that this ill-starred old ship, which was evidently an ancient steamer, was totally destitute of flags bar her national ensign; and, having no signals, she would, of course, possess no code-book, and therefore our number, standing out stiffly a hundred feet from the deck, would be quite unintelligible to her.