Solomons, celebrated for their beautiful women. [Footnote: See "Song of
Solomon," King James Version.] But we were becalmed and the geographic
items mentioned were, for the time being, hull-down. Thus we were free
to proceed with the business at hand, namely, the celebration of our
national holiday.

This we had been doing for several hours, with frequent toasts,
speeches, firecrackers and an occasional rocket aimed directly at the
eye of the tropical sun. Captain Triplett, being a stickler for marine
etiquette, had conditioned that there should be no liquor consumed
except when the sun was over the yard-arm. To this end he had fitted
a yard-arm to our cross-trees with a universal joint, thus enabling
us to keep the spar directly under the sun at any hour of the day or
night. Consequently our celebration was proceeding merrily.

While in this happy and isolated condition let me say a few words of
our ship's company. Having already mentioned the Captain I will dispose
of him first. Captain Ezra Triplett was a hard-bitten mariner. In fact,
he was, I think, the hardest-bitten mariner I have ever seen. He had
been bitten, according to his own tell, man-and-boy, for fifty-two
years, by every sort of insect, rodent and crustacean in existence.
He had had smallpox and three touches of scurvy, each of these blights
leaving its autograph. He had lost one eye in the Australian bush
where, naturally, it was impossible to find it. This had been replaced
by a blue marble of the size known, technically, as an eighteen-er,
giving him an alert appearance which had first attracted me. By nature
taciturn, he was always willing to sit up all night as long as the gin
was handy, an excellent trait in a navigator. About his neck he wore
a felt bag containing ten or a dozen assorted marbles with which he
furnished his vacant socket according to his fancy, and the effect of