young lion, about three years old, who was lying down nearest to the window; and Tommy took up a stone and threw it at him: the lion appeared not to notice it, for he did not move, although he fixed his eyes upon Tommy; so Tommy became more brave, and threw another, and then another, approaching each time nearer to the bars of the window.
All of a sudden the lion gave a tremendous roar, and sprang at Tommy, bounding against the iron bars of the cage with such force that, had they not been very strong, it must have broken them. As it was, they shook and rattled so that pieces of mortar fell from the stones. Tommy shrieked; and, fortunately for himself, fell back and tumbled head over heels, or the lion’s paws would have reached him. Captain Osborn and Mr. Seagrave ran up to Tommy, and picked him up: he roared with fright as soon as he could fetch his breath, while the lion stood at the bars, lashing his tail, snarling, and showing his enormous fangs.
“Take me away—take me on board the ship!” cried Tommy, who was terribly frightened.
“What did you do, Tommy?” said Captain Osborn.
“I won’t throw any more stones, Mr. Lion; I won’t indeed!” cried Tommy, looking terrified towards the animal.
Mr. Seagrave scolded Tommy well for his foolish conduct, and by degrees he became more composed; but he did not recover himself until they had walked some distance away from the lion’s den.
They then looked at the other animals which were to be seen, Tommy keeping a most respectful distance from every one of them. He wouldn’t even go near to a Cape sheep with a broad tail.
When they had seen everything, they went back to the gentleman’s house to dinner; and, after dinner, they returned on board.
Chapter Four.
The following morning the fresh water and provisions were received on board, and once more the Pacific stretched her broad canvas to the winds, and there was every prospect of a rapid voyage, as for many days she continued her passage with a fair wind and flowing sheet. But this did not continue: it fell calm, and remained so for nearly three days, during which not a breath of wind was to be seen on the wide expanse of water; all nature appeared as if in repose, except that now and then an albatross would drop down at some distance from the stern of the vessel, and, as he swam lazily along with his wings half-furled, pick up the fragments of food which had been thrown over the side.
“What great bird is that, Ready?” inquired William.
“It is an albatross, the largest sea-bird we have. Their wings are very long. I have seen them shot, and they have measured eleven feet from the tip of one wing to the tip of the other when the wings have been spread out.”
“It is the first one that I have seen,” said William.
“Because you seldom meet them north of the Cape, sir: people do say that they go to sleep on the wing, balancing themselves high up in the air.”
“Papa,” said William, turning to Mr. Seagrave, who stood by, “why is it that one bird can swim and another cannot? You recollect when Tommy drove the hens into the large pond, they flounced about, and their feathers became wet, and would support them no longer, and then they were drowned. Now, how does a sea-bird contrive to remain so long on the water?”
“Because a sea-bird, William, is provided with a sort of oil on purpose to anoint the outside of its feathers, and this oil prevents the water from penetrating them. Have you not observed the ducks on shore dressing their feathers with their bills? They were then using this oil to make their feathers waterproof.”
“How odd!”
“Don’t say how odd, William; that is not an expression to use when we talk of the wonderful provisions made by the Almighty hand, who neglects not the meanest of his creatures—say rather, how wonderful!”
“That’s very true, sir,” observed Ready; “but still you must not be too hard upon Master William, for I have heard many a grownup man make use of the same expression.”
On the third day of the calm, the barometer fell so low as to induce Captain Osborn to believe that they should have a severe gale, and every preparation was made to meet it, should it come on. Nor was he mistaken: towards midnight the clouds gathered up fast, and as they gathered up in thick piles, heaped one over the other, the lightning darted through them in every direction; and as the clouds rose up, so did the wind, but at first only in heavy gusts, and then lulling again to a calm.
“Ready,” said Captain Osborn, “how do you think we shall have the wind?”
“Why, Captain Osborn, to tell you the truth, I don’t think it will be steady to one point long. It may at first blow hard from the north, but it’s my idea it will shift soon to some other quarter, and blow still harder.”
“What think you, Mackintosh?”
“We’ll have plenty of it, and a long steady gale, that’s my notion; and the sooner we ship the dead lights the better.”
Mr. Seagrave, with William, happened to be standing by at the time of this conversation, and at the term dead lights Willy’s face expressed some anxiety. Ready perceived it, and said—
“That’s a foolish name they give to the shutters which go over the cabin windows to prevent the water from breaking into the cabin when a vessel sails before the wind; you know we had them on the last time that we had a gale.”
“But, Ready,” said Captain Osborn, “why do you think that we shall have a shift of wind?”
“Well, I don’t know; perhaps I was wrong,” replied the old man, “and Mr. Mackintosh is right: the wind does seem to come steady from the north-east, that’s certain;” and Ready walked away to the binnacle, and looked at the compass. Mr. Seagrave and William then went below, and Mr. Mackintosh went forward to give his orders. As soon as they were all gone, Ready went up again to Captain Osborn and said:
“Captain Osborn, it’s not for me to contradict Mr. Mackintosh, but that’s of little consequence in a time like this: I should have held to my opinion, had it not been that the gentleman passenger and his son were standing by, but now, as the coast is clear, I tell you that we shall have something worse than a gale of wind. I have been in these latitudes before, and I am an old seaman, as you know. There’s something in the air, and there has been something during the last three days of calm, which reminds me too well of what I have seen here before; and I am sure that we shall have little better than a hurricane, as far as wind goes—and worse in one point, that it will last much longer than hurricanes generally do. I have been watching, and even the birds tell me so, and they are told by their nature, which is never mistaken. That calm has been nothing more than a repose of the winds previous to their being roused up to do their worst; and that is my real opinion?”
“Well, and I’m inclined to agree with you, Ready; so we must send topgallant yards down on deck, and all the small sails and lumber out of the tops. Get the trysail aft and bent, and lower down the gaff. I will go forward.”
Their preparations were hardly complete before the wind had settled to a fierce gale from the north-east. The sea rose rapidly; topsail after topsail was furled; and by dusk the Pacific was flying through the water with the wind on her quarter, under
