The cabin breakfast had just been concluded, and the Cape pigeons were swarming around the ship, or swimming in the water alongside. The cunning horde knew the hours meals were served as well as they did day from night, and at such times all were on hand, waiting for the scraps which they knew would be thrown overboard by the cook and steward. They are pretty creatures, uniting the eyes and feet of a duck with the head, bill, and other characteristics of the domestic pigeon. The breast is white, the head and back a bluish black, while the wings are dappled black and white. Beneath the feathers, the bird is covered with a wonderfully thick, soft down, which is so dense that not a drop of the icy water in which the creatures delight to swim and dive, can ever penetrate to the skin. Soon after a ship has passed the latitude of Rio de Janeiro, the pigeons begin to make their appearance, and they follow that vessel for weeks and weeks, until she has passed around the Horn, and far up into the Pacific. Then they disappear gradually as the warm latitudes are reached, transferring their allegiance to some craft bound back in the opposite direction. How they obtain sleep and rest is a mystery, for one never lights on a ship; but no matter how fast a vessel may go, or how severe a gale may rage, the whole tribe is in attendance every morning, like an army following its general. The cook threw overboard a quantity of table scraps, and instantly every pigeon flew to the spot; all keeping up a discordant scolding and chattering, as each tried to keep the others from getting a bite, at the same time gulping down anything it could get hold of. Several dived far down after sinking morsels. The passengers deciding to catch some of the birds, a line, with a small baited hook, was trailed out astern, and seven pigeons were soon hauled aboard, being caught in the mouth precisely as a fish is. The first thing any ocean bird does upon being put on the deck of a ship, is to become sea-sick; and the prisoners unanimously followed this program. After parting with their breakfasts, they felt better, and one could not help laughing at the ludicrous expression of astonishment in the creatures’ eyes as they surveyed their novel surroundings. In the air or in the water, they were the personification of grace; but now they seemed to be all legs, and fell down, or plumped into something, after waddling a few yards. Then they ran along flapping their wings, as they tried to get sufficient start to enable them to soar, but only one succeeded in clearing the bulwarks. An old necktie was torn into strips, one being fastened around the neck of each bird. Thus ornamented, the captives were tossed up into the air, and off they went to tell their companions amongst what strange barbarians they had fallen.