he yacht _Akbar,_ from Sydney for New Guinea, three hands on
board, lost at Crescent Head; the crew saved.

So it took them several days to lose the yacht, after all.

After speaking the distressed _Akbar_ and the _Sherman_, the voyage
for many days was uneventful save in the pleasant incident on May 16
of a chat by signal with the people on South Solitary Island, a dreary
stone heap in the ocean just off the coast of New South Wales, in
latitude 30 degrees 12' south.

"What vessel is that?" they asked, as the sloop came abreast of their
island. For answer I tried them with the Stars and Stripes at the
peak. Down came their signals at once, and up went the British ensign
instead, which they dipped heartily. I understood from this that they
made out my vessel and knew all about her, for they asked no more
questions. They didn't even ask if the "voyage would pay," but they
threw out this friendly message, "Wishing you a pleasant voyage,"
which at that very moment I was having.

May 19 the _Spray_, passing the Tweed River, was signaled from Danger
Point, where those on shore seemed most anxious about the state of my
health, for they asked if "all hands" were well, to which I could say,
"Yes."

On the following day the _Spray_ rounded Great Sandy Cape, and, what
is a notable event in every voyage, picked up the trade-winds, and
these winds followed her now for many thousands of miles, never
ceasing to blow from a moderate gale to a mild summer breeze, except
at rare intervals.

From the pitch of the cape was a noble light seen twenty-seven miles;
passing from this to Lady Elliott Light, which stands on an island as
a sentinel at the gateway of the Barrier Reef, the _Spray_ was at once
in the fairway leading north. Poets have sung of beacon-light and of
pharos, but did ever poet behold a great light flash up before his
path on a dark night in the midst of a coral sea? If so, he knew the
meaning of his song.

The _Spray_ had sailed for hours in suspense, evidently stemming a
current. Almost mad with doubt, I grasped the helm to throw her head
off shore, when blazing out of the sea was the light ahead.
"Excalibur!" cried "all hands," and rejoiced, and sailed on. The
_Spray_ was now in a protected sea and smooth water, the first she had
dipped her keel into since leaving Gibraltar, and a change it was from
the heaving of the misnamed "Pacific" Ocean.

The Pacific is perhaps, upon the whole, no more boisterous than oth