As we ran to the northward, we had the wind on the beam or aft of that, most of the time, usually brisk to strong, as fair a wind as we could have wished for. The hurricane season was about to begin. Hurricanes are most frequent in March and April, although occasionally there is a severe one toward the last of February; and their tracks most commonly cross the Fiji or Samoan Islands in a general southerly direction, then curving more and more to the eastward. We stood well to the west of Fiji, and were past the Ellices before the end of the southern summer, so that we escaped them entirely—if there were any—and were usually running about as fast as the old Clearchus was able, under the southeast trades, and under a regular trade-wind sky. It was seldom necessary to touch a brace or a halliard, and our crew had very little to do. The mastheads were kept manned, but I soon came to the conclusion that that was done merely as a matter of form, or from habit, and not for any practical purpose, for we raised spouts on two occasions on our way up without lowering or even changing the course. Each time Captain Nelson came on deck, looked at the spoutings for a couple of minutes, and turned away without saying anything. And each time Mr. Baker asked him, “Lower, sir?” rather wistfully, and the old man shook his head, and went below again. I did not know what to make of it, and Mr. Baker did not seem to know either. He appeared to be dumbfounded—completely flabbergasted—and he looked after the captain, and, on the second occasion, I heard him mutter that he ’d be eternally damned to hell-fire, or words to that effect—with sundry embellishments—if he knew what the captain was up to. I made up my mind that the idea of finding the {323} mythical Apollo island obsessed him. We had over two thousand barrels on board, and needed only three or four hundred to fill us up. Think of the disappointment of finding a gold mine, with nowhere to put the gold! Easy money, for the mere picking up, and no way of carrying it off.