From Ascension we reached away so far to the west that nothing but the most abstract calculation could give our captain any idea as to the latitude and longitude in which we really were, and our little bark seemed to be dancing about on the line like an amateur rope-dancer. This is a rather metaphysical metaphor; but I am talking learnedly now, influenced, no doubt, by our skipper’s tuition. Time hanging heavily on my hands in this dead calm, when even the green waves assumed the lifeless heaviness of molten lead, I had taught myself navigation, and held such lengthy discussions with our captain as to the position and value of stars, planets, and constellations, as to appear to the somewhat astonished listeners around as though I were a Newton and a Pascal rolled into one. The captain and I, over our glasses (telescopes I mean, of course), had become so awfully knowing, that my only doubts were as to which knew the least of the two; and it was only for the sake of the respect due to seniority in this happy ignorance that I allowed him to navigate the ship. One day, however, nettled by some critical observations of mine, in a sudden fit of displeasure he threw up his commission as skipper, and I took his place; but as it happened to be a dead calm at the time, I had no means of showing my superior seamanship. Thus time passed on, while I still retained a certain happy-go-lucky faith in my own _star_ quite as strong as the captain’s in his. In this I was fully justified, as the sequel will show. On passing over the supposed line, which our captain, after dinner, had kindly chalked out before us in a very zigzag manner on the mahogany, in the prelude to the _in memoriam_ wake for poor Ben, whom, as I previously stated, we had left deep down in the phosphorescent waters of the southern hemisphere. While others were singing song after song in happy oblivion of past warfare at the Cape, _I_ was thinking that we had entered into British waters. This was somewhat a stretch of imagination, but nothing is too big for me when I dream of Old England--like Ben, I dive into futurity. Thus human nature seeks for pleasure and enjoyment in many and varied channels, according to its own appreciation of wherein these consist. The bottle was circling freely, and the hot, stifling atmosphere of the mess-cabin below made us feel delightfully dry every time it neared us, as one after another we passed the Rubicon between self-possession and being possessed. Notwithstanding all this joviality, an uncomfortable feeling was slowly creeping over me, and at last became so unbearable that I ran upon deck to breathe the fresh air. How grand all appeared under that mighty dome, compared to the rafters of the cabin below! The night was glorious in its starry splendour; the sea slept gently heaving, as though with loving dreams surging, while soft breezes rippled its face with smiles.