Taking me by the arm, he said in a low voice: "We are floating just above the masthead of a Norwegian bark. The men are having a little frolic on board, and are playing and singing!" He then went on to explain how he had overhauled the bark shortly after I had gone below, and hearing the music had dropped a little and slackened speed to enjoy it. I looked over the rail and a weird sight it was. Just below, through the turgid atmosphere, was the huge silhouette of the ship, magnified in the fog. A few lights were visible along her deck, and near the center was a reddish glow through which shadowy figures moved and danced. No detail was visible. Nothing but the shifting shadows and the light, and the great mass of the vessel. It was like a huge kinetoscope, with the addition of music. "The fellows are having a good time!" said Torrence; "sometimes in rifts of the fog we can see them more distinctly. Far from home, and with a good-natured skipper, there is nothing to prevent their enjoying themselves!" At one moment the shadows would form a circle, when one would step into the glowing center and perform some fantastic evolutions to the music. The whole scene was wild and weird in the extreme. A pink nebulosity from out which dark mysterious figures were forever coming and going, dancing, falling, and jumping. We lingered quite awhile, looking and listening without their having a suspicion of our proximity, and then Torrence, with a sudden burst of enthusiasm over one of the performers, shouted "Hooray," at the top of his voice. Instantly the music stopped, and every man, seized with panic, looked aloft; but we were dark and silent, and gave no token. Slowly we rose again in the air, and in another minute had left the Norwegian bark far behind. It was a queer experience, and I have often wondered how those people explained the mystery of the heavenward voice. *XI.* The morning was radiant; not a cloud in the sky, nor a hatful of wind. It was Torry’s turn to rest, while I kept watch, and that he needed it was shown by the fact that he slept until noon. Meanwhile I got my own breakfast, and set his aside; and then resumed the lookout above. From my lofty perch I caught the occasional glint of a sail, or the dark trail of smoke from a southerly steamer, but these were quickly dropped astern, no matter what their course. Our rate of progress was uninterrupted, and the fascination of flight grew with familiarity. When Torrence came on deck he decided to increase our speed, wishing to make the coast of Norway before night, on account of the intricacy of the mountain channels to be encountered there. "Once in sight of land," he said, "we can shape our course and elevation accordingly."