nely sails was to
be seen, heading toward Chesapeake Bay and then to sea. But anyone
with eyesight good enough might have seen a solitary sea gull,
following.

CHAPTER 19

The long days passed on board the _Mirabelle_. The hours rolled
majestically past as did the waves through which the _Mirabelle_ cut
her way.

Amos and Christopher were kept out of sight until Mr. Wicker's ship
was several days out to sea, for the crew, not knowing that the
success of their voyage depended on Chris, would have been surly at
the presence of two such young boys on board, useless cargo, in their
opinion, who knew nothing of seafaring. But when Chris and Amos
appeared under the banner of "stowaways," the sailors considered them
full of spunk, and welcomed them warmly.

Both Chris and Amos found life on a sailing vessel strange and
fascinating but difficult to get used to. Ned Cilley as their best
friend on board was the one to whom they turned whenever his duties
gave him free time. However, to Chris's surprise, it was the first
mate, sad-looking Mr. Finney, who would patiently instruct them in sea
terms and answer their endless questions.

As the days passed and the _Mirabelle_ pursued her long course through
tropical water, Chris, with many free hours to occupy, at last
understood how the model of the _Mirabelle_ had been so painstakingly
arranged inside a bottle. For the time seemed long between glimpses of
shore and shore, or until they sailed for a time along some wild and
beautiful tropic coast. Then Chris would lean on the side of the ship
looking at the mountainous or jungled shore. A scent such as comes
from the opened door of a hothouse would drift out to sea to the
sailors, who looked yearningly toward the land and the greenness. A
warm breath of flowers, damp moss, and leaves in the sun would mingle
with the rough salt smell of the sea. Chris and Amos imagined to
themselves what the forest or the mountainsides would be like if they
could only land and investigate them.

[Illustration]

Now and again small flocks of birds, migrating perhaps or blown out
to sea, would land on the _Mirabelle_, and Ned Cilley made a large
cage for some of the sweet-singing gaily feathered creatures for Chris
and Amos. And on one occasion when the _Mirabelle_ was sailing past
Brazil, a flock of butterflies was carried out on a breeze from shore
and hung on the rigging until the boys imagined themselves in a
blossoming wood.

Ch