As our friends were by no means novices in ocean travel they speedily dropped into the ways of the ship and made acquaintance with the passengers and officers. The passengers were a polyglot collection, numbering some fifty or more, and including about a dozen nationalities. There were Americans, on their way to California or Central America; Englishmen, with similar destinations, or bound for Callao and Valparaiso; Frenchmen, who were interested in the work on the Panama Canal; Peruvians, Chilians, Nicaraguans, and other natives of Central and South America; Germans, commercially engaged in the republics beyond the Equator; besides, as Fred expressed it in his note-book, "several districts to hear from." But in spite of their difference of nationality they were entirely harmonious, and the voyage proved a most agreeable one. "Things are not now what they were before the overland railways were built," said one of the officers in conversation with Frank; "in those days we carried three or four hundred passengers in the first cabin, and twice or three times as many in the steerage. Now, the travel between the east and west goes by railway, and comparatively few persons make the sea trip between New York and San Francisco. But it's as pleasant as it ever was, and if people would only think they could spare the additional time there would be more of them going by steamer than by rail. There's no more delightful voyage in the world than from Panama to San Francisco. You are in sight of the coast nearly all the way; the ocean is so calm that you might suppose yourself on an inland lake, except on rare occasions; and before you begin to be weary of the trip you are entering the Golden Gate, and making fast to the dock, at your journey's end." Dr. Bronson confirmed the assertion of this ancient mariner, as he had made the voyage to California in the manner described; "and we used to think," said he, "that we were getting along finely when we went from New York to San Francisco in twenty-three days. Now we can go in a week by the railway, and it is contrary to the American temperament to make the longer journey." Frank and Fred were agreeably disappointed in the expectation of a storm before reaching the Caribbean Sea. In looking up the accounts of previous travellers they had found an old couplet: "If the Bermudas let you pass, You must beware of Hatteras." They questioned the captain on the subject, and found that the poetical assertion was not without basis, as many a ship sailing on her course had encountered a gale in the neighborhood either of Cape Hatteras or the Bermuda Islands. "But in marine verses, as in every other sort," the captain continued, "you must allow for the poet's license, which often requires a very large margin to include it." [Illustration: A STRANDED SHIP.]