erence in power, and of the mystery that
envelops the workings of the atmosphere, that, in all ages, seamen have
been the subjects of superstition, in respect to the winds. There is
always more or less of the dependency of ignorance, in the manner with
which they have regarded the changes of that fickle element. Even the
mariners of our own times are not exempt from this weakness. The
thoughtless ship-boy is reproved if his whistle be heard in the howling of
the gale, and the officer sometimes betrays a feeling of uneasiness, if at
such a moment he should witness any violation of the received opinions of
his profession. He finds himself in the situation of one whose ears have
drunk in legends of supernatural appearances, which a better instruction
has taught him to condemn, and who when placed in situations to awaken
their recollection, finds the necessity of drawing upon his reason to
quiet emotions that he might hesitate to acknowledge.

When Trysail directed the attention of his young commander to the heavens,
however, it was more with the intelligence of an experienced mariner, than
with any of the sensations to which allusion has just been made. A cloud
had suddenly appeared on the water, and long ragged portions of the vapor
were pointing from it, in a manner to give it what seamen term a windy
appearance.

"We shall have more than we want, with this canvas!" said the master,
after both he and his commander had studied the appearance of the mist,
for a sufficient time. "That fellow is a mortal enemy of lofty sails; he
likes to see nothing but naked sticks, up in his neighbourhood!"

"I should think his appearance will force the brigantine to shorten sail;"
returned the Captain. "We will hold-on to the last, while he must begin to
take in soon, or the squall will come upon him too fast for a light-handed
vessel."

"'Tis a cruiser's advantage! And yet the rogue shows no signs of lowering
a single cloth!"

"We will look to our own spars;" said Ludlow, turning to the lieutenant of
the watch. "Call the people up, Sir, and see all ready, for yonder cloud."

The order was succeeded by the customary hoarse summons of the boatswain,
who prefaced the effort of his lungs by a long, shrill winding of his
call, above the hatchways of the ship. The cry of "all hands shorten sail,
ahoy!" soon brought the crew from the depths of the vessel to her upper
deck. Each trained seaman silently took his station; and after the ropes