I felt somewhat like a man, and could begin to learn my sea duty
with considerable spirit. At about two o'clock we heard the loud
cry of "sail ho!" from aloft, and soon saw two sails to windward,
going directly athwart our hawse. This was the first time that
I had seen a sail at sea. I thought then, and always have since,
that it exceeds every other sight in interest and beauty. They
passed to leeward of us, and out of hailing distance; but the
captain could read the names on their sterns with the glass.
They were the ship Helen Mar, of New York, and the brig Mermaid,
of Boston. They were both steering westward, and were bound in for
our "dear native land."

Thursday, Aug. 21st. This day the sun rose clear, we had a fine
wind, and everything was bright and cheerful. I had now got my
sea legs on, and was beginning to enter upon the regular duties
of a sea-life. About six bells, that is, three o'clock, P.M., we
saw a sail on our larboard bow. I was very anxious, like every new
sailor, to speak her. She came down to us, backed her main-top-sail,
and the two vessels stood "head on," bowing and curvetting at each
other like a couple of war-horses reined in by their riders. It was
the first vessel that I had seen near, and I was surprised to find
how much she rolled and pitched in so quiet a sea. She lunged her
head into the sea, and then, her stern settling gradually down, her
huge bows rose up, showing the bright copper, and her stern, and
bresthooks dripping, like old Neptune's locks, with the brine.
Her decks were filled with passengers who had come up at the cry
of "sail ho," and who by their dress and features appeared to be
Swiss and French emigrants. She hailed us at first in French,
but receiving no answer, she tried us in English. She was the
ship La Carolina, from Havre, for New York. We desired her to