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THE SARGASSO SEA—THE NORTHEAST TRADE-WINDS—DOLPHINS AND BONITAS—NEW STARS COME INTO VIEW.

A few days after the fight between the swordfish and the whale, as I came on deck early in the morning, a strange sight met my eyes. I could not see the water of the ocean, the vessel appeared as if it had been stranded and left by the tide on a land covered with seaweed. We had entered during the night that part of the Atlantic which was called by Columbus and other early Spanish navigators “Mar de Sargaço”—and which is known to us now under the name of the Sargasso Sea.

The Sargasso Sea lies in that quiet area of the Atlantic Ocean between 28° and 32° north latitude, and 35° and 55° west longitude, varying slightly in its position at times on account of long prevailing winds, or currents caused by those winds. This sea comprises an area of about one hundred and fifty miles from north to south, and about four hundred and fifty miles from east to west. This space is entirely covered with seaweed and in many places so thick that for hundreds of acres the water is hidden from view.

The stem of the Sargasso weed attains often a length of several hundred feet and has many branches growing from the stem, which in the course of time break in many places. These vines are covered with berries, which have the appearance of bunches of grapes. On that account the seaweed is called by the sailors by the different names of grape weed, grape of the tropics, and the Sargasso weed. We sailed through this remarkable area of the ocean, carried onwards by light variable winds—sometimes making but little headway.

One day we met the Northeast trade-winds, which are generally encountered at about the fortieth degree of longitude west of Greenwich, and 30° north latitude. I thought how wonderful it was that these northeast trade-winds had been blowing constantly without intermission over a part of the Atlantic, as long as men remembered, for thousands of years and, in fact, from the time the great desert of Sahara appeared upon our earth. These northeast trade-winds blow across the Atlantic Ocean as far south as the tenth degree of north latitude and at certain times of the year as far as the fifth and sixth degrees, and lose their force as they reach the West Indies.

We sailed somewhat parallel to the coast which forms the western part of the great desert of Sahara, which begins south of Morocco, latitude 30° north and follows the Atlantic near to the Senegal river 15° north—a distance on a straight line of nine hundred miles.

One morning as I came on deck, before it had been washed, I noticed some minute particles of sand that had fallen from the sky, and were still falling, though we were hundreds of miles at sea. It was sand from the great Sahara, which had been carried high into the atmosphere by the wind, and the captain said to me when he saw my astonishment: “Sometimes the sand from the Sahara is carried a thousand miles out to sea, and we are now about seven hundred miles from the coast.”

The lively northeast trade-winds carried us southward day after day—and how beautiful was the sky! White fleecy clouds, looking like gigantic flashes of cotton, often diaphanous, floated rapidly by, borne on the wind in the blue heavens which were reflected in the sea. There was no rain to disturb us. No weather could have been more beautiful.

Almost every day we saw immense shoals of porpoises swimming at a great rate and jumping out of the water, many amusing themselves in swimming round our little ship. They seemed always to swim against the wind. At other times dolphins and bonitas followed us. The dolphin is the most beautiful of all fishes, and they added to our larder, for they were voracious and eagerly bit at the hooks. In its death throes the dolphin changed into hues of marvellous colors. Once in a great while we would see a turtle floating on the sea. Days passed away, our little vessel sailing under a most beautiful sky with a lovely breeze. I had noticed a change in the firmament. The heavens at night were not like those at home. Some of the stars that were south in the northern states were now north, and stars appeared daily which were unknown to me. The constellations had changed their shape also. The north star reached its meridian altitude lower every day, and came nearer and nearer the horizon. Other stars of our northern latitude followed in its wake.

At last, one night the north star was very near the horizon and showed itself for a short time only. The next night as I watched for it, it suddenly appeared, and for the last time, as it was on the point of disappearing under the horizon. It seemed as if I heard the dear north star say to me: “Good-by, Paul: you will not see me again until you come back home,” and I answered: “Good-by, little north star, I hope to come home again and look at you when you twinkle in the sky,” and at those words of mine, the star vanished from my sight. The next night I watched in vain for its appearance; it never came.

As we sailed southward the constellation of the southern cross appeared,—four brilliant stars making the perfect shape of a cross,—Sirius resplendent in light and the most brilliant star in the heavens, called also the Dog Star. All the southern stars seemed to say “Welcome, Paul, to our southern latitudes.” But they were strangers to me. Though I admired their brilliancy I longed for our northern stars,—for we love the stars which shine upon the country where we were born.