was the bark _Java_ of Glasgow, from Peru for Queenstown for orders.
Her old captain was bearish, but I met a bear once in Alaska that
looked pleasanter. At least, the bear seemed pleased to meet me, but
this grizzly old man! Well, I suppose my hail disturbed his siesta,
and my little sloop passing his great ship had somewhat the effect on
him that a red rag has upon a bull. I had the advantage over heavy
ships, by long odds, in the light winds of this and the two previous
days. The wind was light; his ship was heavy and foul, making poor
headway, while the _Spray_, with a great mainsail bellying even to
light winds, was just skipping along as nimbly as one could wish. "How
long has it been calm about here?" roared the captain of the _Java_,
as I came within hail of him. "Dunno, cap'n," I shouted back as loud
as I could bawl. "I haven't been here long." At this the mate on the
forecastle wore a broad grin. "I left Cape Sable fourteen days ago," I
added. (I was now well across toward the Azores.) "Mate," he roared to
his chief officer--"mate, come here and listen to the Yankee's yarn.
Haul down the flag, mate, haul down the flag!" In the best of humor,
after all, the _Java_ surrendered to the _Spray_.

[Illustration: Chart of the _Spray's_ course around the world--April
24, 1895, to July 3, 1898]

The acute pain of solitude experienced at first never returned. I had
penetrated a mystery, and, by the way, I had sailed through a fog. I
had met Neptune in his wrath, but he found that I had not treated him
with contempt, and so he suffered me to go on and explore.

In the log for July 18 there is this entry: "Fine weather, wind
south-southwest. Porpoises gamboling all about. The S.S. _Olympia_
passed at 11:30 A.M., long. W. 34 degrees 50'."