On the 28th we set out, making course for St. Paul’s Rocks. We enjoyed excellent weather, with smooth seas on which the sun sparkled in a myriad of variegated points. We felt the heat considerably, which is natural, considering the confined space and general lack of artificial means of keeping cool, such as effective fans, refrigerators and iced water. Most of us slept on deck, under the stars which twinkled above us, large and luminous, in the tropic nights. The Boss took Marr out of the stokehold about this time and placed him to assist Green as cook’s mate, a not very romantic job, but one which he carried out with his usual thoroughness. He had by now thoroughly found his feet, and took a deep interest in the sea life of the tropics: flying fish fleeing in shoals before the graceful bonito, which, leaping in the air to descend with scarcely a splash, followed in relentless pursuit; dolphins, albacore and the sinister fins of occasional sharks. On November 4th a large school of porpoises came about the ship and played around our bows. Eriksen seized the opportunity to harpoon one of them, which we hauled aboard. Wilkins found in its stomach a number of cuttle-fish beaks. The meat we sent to the larder. The porpoise is not a fish, but a mammal, warm blooded and air breathing. It provides an excellent red meat, against which British sailors have for many years felt a strong prejudice, but which is eaten with relish by Scandinavians. We found it a pleasant change from tinned food. One day we encountered a magnificent five-masted barque becalmed in the doldrums, all sail set and flapping gently with the slight roll. She was flying the French ensign, and on closer approach proved to be the _La France_, of Rouen. She presented such a beautiful sight,[3] with her tall masts and lofty spars reflected in the smooth sea, that we altered course to pass close to her and enable Wilkins to get some photographs. Sir Ernest spoke to her captain, who replied in excellent English, asking where we had left the trade winds, voicing what is the uppermost thought in the mind of every master of a sailing ship, the probability and direction of winds, on which depends their motive power. We were amused to notice that though the Boss sent his voice unaided across the water with the greatest ease, the Frenchman required a megaphone to make audible his replies.