In pleasant weather, when off the coast of Brazil, I have sat for hours on the ship’s rail fishing for albatross, one of the largest and most formidable of the South Sea birds, as they majestically sailed along in the wake of the ship, watching the bait (a piece of pork fastened to the hook, and a small bit of board attached to the line to float it,) so temptingly displayed. After swallowing it, and finding themselves captured, there was no struggling to free themselves, but, as you hauled in the line, they would sail gracefully along in all their native beauty and dignity. The assistance of the two boys was required in bringing them to the deck, where, after freeing them from the hook, (which, the boys always assured me, did not hurt them in the least,) they would survey the scene around them with a{16} sort of contemptuous glance, as though they disdained their captors and the deception used to allure them from their native element. The goats, when freed from their inclosures, would advance towards them, rear themselves on their hind-legs, and shake their heads in defiance of the monster bird; while it, in turn, would snap its tremendous bill with such force, you could hear it ring from one part of the ship to the other; but they would never encounter one another except by threatening gestures. When we became satisfied with admiring our prisoner, two sailors would each grasp a wing, raise him to the side of the ship, give him a toss, and away he would soar; then light gracefully upon the water at a little distance, and view what I suppose he thought to be a huge monster which had held him in his grasp. Another amusement was taking a dish of crumbs, and, by throwing over a handful, call a flock of cape-pigeons to the ship’s side. Each one eager to secure his share, they would dive far down into the clear water to get those that were sinking. Sometimes, to deceive them, I would throw over a bone that would sink rapidly. Down they would all go after it out of sight; then appear again, chattering,—scolding, I called the incessant noise they kept{17} up. This bird resembles our tame pigeon, with the exception of being a little larger. Flocks of “Mother Carey’s chickens” were occasionally following in our wake. Those tiny little things, ever on the wing, often excited my sympathy. About this time, the faithful dog I had learned to love so well sickened, and daily grew worse. Every remedy we could devise was called into requisition, but availed nought. One night, after I had retired, he dragged himself to my berth, placed his nose close to my face, and whined and moaned piteously. I afterwards thought it prophetic of evil in the future. Upon making my appearance upon deck the next morning, there lay the noble animal dead. Poor old Dash! the remembrance of thee and thy many virtues will live long on memory’s leaf. CHAPTER III.