Once again we met the Symmetry, before the termination of this never-to-be-forgotten voyage. When and where, time and future pages will explain. CHAPTER VII. Our home on board the Fanchon was all the most fastidious could desire. Captain Lunt was possessed of all those gentlemanly attributes which are calculated to win the possessor friends, and respect from all with whom he associates. Ever joyous and light-hearted, the salutary effects produced by the exercise of these excellent properties seemed{58} to pervade the hearts of all subject to his control. He also being a judicious disciplinarian, the greatest neatness and order imaginable prevailed throughout the ship. Our fancied security—our sanguine expectations that our troubles from fire at sea were at an end—our hopes of a safe and speedy termination of our voyage—all these heart-cheering feelings were sustained and strengthened by reiterated assurances from Captain Lunt that there was no danger whatever of the Fanchon’s burning, she was so well ventilated. In fact, he attributed the destruction of the other ships to want of proper ventilation. Besides, he argued, that if there had been the least probability of its taking fire, it would have done so long ago. We all conceded his arguments were decidedly conclusive; and, for a few days, anxiety, fear, suspense, and all the attendant train of harrowing reflections, were strangers to my bosom. But as frail and fleeting as are all the evanescent joys of earth were my hopes. On the 25th of December, in the evening, as we sat conversing of the day, and the manner in which they were celebrating it at our far distant homes, and vainly wishing that, by another Christmas, our places in the family circle would not be vacant, a puff of air was wafted into the cabin, so strongly{59} impregnated with gas as to render the conviction certain in my mind, that the coal was on fire. I speedily gave utterance to my fears, which met with a responsive “Pshaw! you have inhaled and smelt gas so often, it has become accessory to your very being.” They failed, however, in eradicating from my mind the impression that the coal was on fire. Upon retiring for the night, the thought of being, for the third time, on board a burning ship, so harassed me as to completely banish slumber from my pillow. Next morning, the captain instituted a search throughout the ship, which proved, beyond a doubt in his mind, there could be no fire. We were now about twelve hundred miles from land, with a fair wind, on the direct course for San Francisco.