While entering the harbor of Hamburg, one hundred and ninety days later, a small boat came alongside with mail for the officers and crew. There was a large assortment of letters and papers bearing postmarks from all parts of the world; but the carpenter and I got nothing, nor did we expect anything, for our relatives must have long since given us up. One of the officers handed me a late copy of the Marine Register, and in the department of Disasters I found this item, which sounded like my obituary: MISSING. St. Lawrence (ship), Fairley, which sailed from Puget Sound April 7 for San Francisco, has never been heard of since, and is supposed to have foundered with all hands. Posted at Lloyd’s as missing. A DANGEROUS CARGO. [Picture: A Dangerous Cargo] The south-east trades of the Pacific usually carry the north bound vessel well across the Line. But they had been failing gradually for some days; and now the long, low steel hull of the British ship _Lochleven_ had almost ceased to move, although she was yet a good two degrees south of the equator. It was very provoking; the more so that she had made very fast time thus far, and Captain Stafford had entertained hopes of making an unusually quick passage. But these hopes were slowly vanishing. The remarkable feature of a calm in the equatorial latitudes of the Pacific is the interesting appearance of the water, which literally teems with various forms of animal life. It is clear and limpid as crystal, and, viewed from the _Lochleven’s_ deck, an endless procession of strange creatures slowly floated by with the current. Two shapeless blotches of film appeared, whose only sign of life was a great red eye at one end. They seemed to have less than the consistency of jelly, and represented one of the lowest forms of animal life. Next was a curious jointed creature of a deep orange tint, coiled up like a snake. Then a fragile nautilus was borne along, with the delicate pink shell projecting above the surface like a sail,—“Portuguese man-of-war” seamen call it,—while a bunch of long tentacles hung down beneath. Just over the stern were two active little fish the size of a brook trout, whose bodies were blue, with wide brown stripes. The pair swam side by side, occasionally darting away capriciously, only to return in a moment. How harmless and innocent they looked! And yet their presence was a certain indication that a shark lurked beneath the ship. One or two of these pilot-fish always accompany a shark to find his prey and lead him to it, for their ugly protector is lazy and nearsighted, and would fare badly without them. Close to the ship’s side a magnificent dolphin floated motionless in the translucent water; the beauty of his steel-blue and pale lemon tints being enhanced by the clear element until the splendid creature seemed too glorious to be real. So quiet was the ocean, so still the