Still, a new delight possesses everybody, and it grows as the hours fly, until at last, it may be at night, perhaps, some one bursts breathlessly into the crowded smoking-room or bar, and cries exultingly: “There she is, Fire Island Light, right over the starboard bow.” Joyous faces gather near the crowded bulwarks, and eager eyes hail with gladness the shining petals of that rose of flame which blossoms unfailingly above the shoaling waters; for the voyage is nearly over, and the morrow means to some the marvels of an unknown land, to others, luckiest and happiest of all, home and dear ones. SAFETY ON THE ATLANTIC. BY WILLIAM H. RIDEING. THE DANGERS OF THE SEA—PRECAUTIONS IN A FOG—ANXIETIES OF THE CAPTAIN—CREEPING UP THE CHANNEL—“ASHORE AT SOUTH STACK”—NARROW ESCAPE OF THE BALTIC—SOME NOTABLE SHIPWRECKS—STATISTICS SINCE 1838—THE REGION OF ICEBERGS—WHEN THEY ARE MOST FREQUENT—CALAMITIES FROM ICE—SAFETY PROMOTED BY SPEED—MODERN PROTECTION FROM INCOMING SEAS—BULKHEADS AND DOUBLE BOTTOMS—WATER TIGHT COMPARTMENTS—THE SPECIAL ADVANTAGE OF THE LONGITUDINAL BULKHEAD—THE VALUE OF TWIN SCREWS—DANGERS FROM A BROKEN SHAFT—IMPROVEMENTS IN THE MARINER’S COMPASS, THE PATENT LOG, AND SOUNDING MACHINE—MANGANESE BRONZE FOR PROPELLERS—LIGHTS, BUOYS, AND FOG SIGNALS—THE REMARKABLE RECORD OF 1890. It is not when the seas come pounding over the bows that the captain’s face lengthens. Even when it is necessary to keep the passengers below, and the spray is carried as high as the foretop, his confidence in his ship is unabated. His spirits do not fall with the barometer, and though the clouds hang low, and the air is filled with stinging moisture flying like sleet from the hissing sea—even when boats are torn out of the davits, and iron bitts and ventilators are snapped from their fastenings like pipe-stems, he has no misgiving as to the ability of the ship to weather the gale, or the fiercest hurricane that can blow. Give him an open sea, without haze, or fog, or snow, and neither wind nor wave can alarm him. He knows very well, as all who are experienced in such matters do, that the modern steamers of the great Atlantic lines are so carefully constructed, and of such strength, that the foundering of one of them through stress of weather alone is well-nigh inconceivable. But when a fog descends, then it is that his face and manner change, and he who has been the most sociable and gayest of men suddenly becomes the most anxious and taciturn. His seat at the head of the table is vacant; look for him and you will not find him, as in fair weather, diverting groups of girls tucked up in steamer-chairs on the promenade-deck, but pacing the bridge and puffing a cigar which apparently has not been allowed to go out since it was lighted as the big ship backed from her wharf into the North River.