The usual preparation for rounding the Horn had been made. The old patched-up sails had been taken down, and strong new ones bent in their places—for a ship, unlike a person, wears her best suit of clothes in foul weather;—lanyards and standing rigging had been renewed and strengthened; preventer braces attached to the principal yards; and life–lines stretched all over the main deck. It was the second dog-watch from 6 to 8 P.M.—and a grand but stormy-looking sunset had given place to the long twilight that prevails in these high latitudes. A solitary star of great size blazed in the zenith, while on the northern horizon, resembling an immense open fan, there was a fine display of the Aurora Borealis, which appeared to rise out of the sea and was becoming more beautiful as the twilight deepened. Up on the poop-deck, clad in warm ulsters, the two passengers were taking their evening constitutional, occasionally pausing to make some comment on the myriads of Cape pigeons whirling about the ship, or to watch a lordly albatross swoop down from above and dive beneath the waters—seldom failing to seize the hapless fish that his unerring eye had spied from afar. Both were young fellows of perhaps twenty-five, who in this long voyage had sought rest; the one from college studies too closely pursued, and the other from the countless worries and nervous tension of American business life. Will Hartley and Frank Wilbur had never met until the day before leaving New York, and as both were of rather reserved dispositions, their relations at first were those of acquaintances rather than friends. But all that was now changed, for gradually they began to thoroughly like each other; and by this time were nearly inseparable. Several months’ daily intercourse between two young men shut up in a ship together is a severe test of companionship, but in the present case it had resulted most happily. Hartley broke a short silence by saying; “To think that ten weeks have passed since I saw a newspaper! All sorts of events have happened on shore that no one here dreams of.” “What do we care?” answered Wilbur, with a laugh. “We are in a world of our own, and as for me, I don’t bother about what is going on in the United States. It seems as if I had always lived on this ship, and my whole past life appears a vague dream. What I would like to know is, whether the _Arabia_ and _Iroquois_ are ahead of us or not. It will be too bad if they beat us to San Francisco.” “No danger of that if we keep up this rate of speed. George! but we’re traveling. Let’s take a look at the log.”