Being becalmed as we approached the Brazilian coast, I was quite excited when the youngster of my watch exclaimed, "There's a big fish close alongside, sir, and I think he's a shark," because I had never forgotten my experiences as related in chapter viii. of my former volume. There, sure enough, was a large shark with several attendant pilots, leisurely swimming about it, and displaying prettily their striped and perchlike sides.

We should like to know more about the life-history and habits of these little aide-de-camps. There is good reason to believe that they feed, in part at all events, on the excreta of the shark, and that they find a refuge inside his mouth, for a nautical friend on whom I can implicitly rely (though, for that matter, I can of course rely upon all nautical friends!) assures me that the vibration of the tail of a captured shark on the deck of his ship shook three pilot fish out of the monster's mouth, which were immediately put into a bucket of water, where they swam about in the liveliest way.

There is an analogous case in Pluvianus Ægyptius, or Crocodile Bird, a little bird which lives in amicable partnership with the crocodile-a creature still more merciless and hateful to mankind than the shark-into whose ravenous jaws it enters to feed (A. H. Evans's "Birds," p. 295), and who, according to Herodotus, warns the crocodile by its cry when danger threatens, and picks out from its body small intrusive insects.

Flying-fish and skipjacks as usual abounded, and at convenient times I was never tired of watching their curious and diverting performances, but do not think it necessary to suppose, as writers generally do, that these creatures always spring out of water and fly and

B

leap simply to escape enemies. They often do so, no doubt, but I am inclined to believe that, as often, their movements are to be attributed to a natural inclination to take exercise and gambol in the exuberance of animal spirits, just as we see kids and lambs skip, horses gallop about a field, or rooks tumble in the air at daily exercise time.

STRAITS OF

CHAPTER II

MAGELLAN'S STRAITS, VALPARAISO, AND PERU

AGAIN I was to "double" Cape Horn (from the Dutch "Hoorn," 1616), that renowned tempest-haunted headland discovered by our own Drake (1578), which I never saw and never shall see, our passage through Magellan's (or more correctly Magalhaens') Straits being easily accomplished by means of steam; but readers of my first volume will remember that I had before made the passage from the West in a sailing ship, an experience which few naval men now living can recall. Owing to prevailing westerly winds the passage from the East was very difficult indeed; so much so, that there was a Spanish proverb, "as shut as the Straits of Magellan."

Since leaving Rio we had flown a blue ensign, the colour of the admiral of that station; but on crossing the longitude of Cape Horn, and passing within the limits of the Pacific command, we hoisted the red as an acknowledgment of our new commander-in-chief, though little did any of us suspect how short a time we were destined to remain under his flag.

A good deal might have depended upon the determination of the exact time when we passed the line of demarcation between the stations; for instance, had Captain Edgell fallen overboard and been drowned a minute or so before crossing, three death vacancies