We had the usual amount of calms and head winds, which brought out the usual quantity of _grumbling_ from all hands, until we sighted the Brazilian coast. We then took a southeast wind, which merrily bowled us onward toward the line, which we were soon to cross for the last time. And cross it we did on Friday, March 10th, but with far different feelings than when we crossed it the _first_ time, nearly five years previous. Then we felt the future to be all uncertainty; now we looked forward to the happy time when we should meet those we so much longed to see. Then we had the prospect of four years’ absence from our native land; now we felt that that time had passed away, and we were soon to reap the fruit of our labor. At evening all hands gathered upon the forecastle, spinning yarns, singing songs, etc., in joyful anticipation, and, with three hearty cheers for “Yankee land,” adjourned. It was now time for us to begin to paint ship, slick up things generally, and make every thing “shipshape and Bristol fashion.” This must be done in pleasant tropical weather, and we soon had a new coat on the old ship, making her look “e’enamost as good as new.” We were on the watch for outward-bound vessels, as we wished to obtain late news from home, and naturally felt anxious to know what was going on, and news of any kind was welcome. On Saturday, March 25th, we spoke the brig “Alpha,” of Halifax, and sent a boat on board to obtain, if possible, some news, and a few vegetables of some kind, as ours had long since, to use a somewhat homely expression, “gi’n out.” The boat soon returned, however, with neither, and we bid our Blue-nose friends good-by, and went on our way. As we stated in a previous chapter, we obtained our last whales on Japan. It is customary for whalers to man mastheads during the passage home as well as on cruising-grounds, although not as vigilant a watch, we think, is kept. The try-works, also, are kept standing until they arrive near Bermuda. On Saturday, April 1st, the order was given, “Overboard try-works,” and at it we went with a will. Bricks and mortar soon flew into the ocean, and the large try-pots were released from their places and lashed to the deck. “No more whales this voyage,” cried the mate, as the last brick disappeared over the side. Yet we felt a regret at this too, for we would have loved the excitement, just then, of fastening to an eighty barreler, and having a nice run. But it was not to be, and we were not _very_ sorry. All seamen know the weather which is most common “off the Bermudas.” We had our share of the gales so prevalent there. From this time for a week or more, we experienced all sorts of weather and winds. One day a fair wind, and the next “dead ahead,” as seamen term it, blowing a gale. [Illustration: A LAND-SHARK.]