some delightfully interesting articles on the ancient sport of “hawking,” or falconry, whichever is the correct term to use, in country life have vividly recalled to me a quaint and unusual experience in that line, which fell to my lot while the vessel of whose crew i was a very minor portion was slowly making her way homewards from a port at the extreme western limit of the gulf of mexico. we were absolutely without live stock of any kind on board the investigator, unless such small deer as rats and cockroaches might be classed under that head. and, as so often happens at sea when that is the case, the men were very discontented at the absence of any dumb animals to make pets of, and often lamented what they considered to be the lonely condition of a ship without even a cat. but we had not been out of port many days when, to our delight as well as amazement, we saw one sunny morning hopping contentedly about the fo’c’s’le a sweet little blue and yellow bird about the bigness (or littleness) of a robin. being well out of sight of land, no one could imagine whence he came, neither did anybody see him arrive. he just materialised as it were in our midst, and made himself at home forthwith, as though he had been born and bred among men and fear of them was unknown to him. we had hardly got over the feeling of almost childish delight this pretty, fearless wanderer gave us when another appeared, much the same size, but totally different in colour. it was quite as tame as the first arrival, and did not quarrel with the first-comer. together they explored most amicably the recesses of the fo’c’s’le, apparently much delighted with the cockroaches, which swarmed everywhere. and before long many others came and joined them, all much about the same size, but of all the hues imaginable. they were all alike in their tameness, and it really was one of the most pleasant sights i ever witnessed to see those tiny, brilliant birds fluttering about our dingy fo’c’s’le, or, tired out, roosting on such queer perches as the edge of the bread-barge or the shelves in our bunks. their presence had a most elevating influence upon the roughest of us—we went softly and spoke gently, for fear of startling these delicate little visitors who were so unafraid of the giants among whom they had voluntarily taken up their abode. at meal-times they hopped about the fo’c’s’le deck picking up crumbs and behaving generally as if they were in the beautiful glades and aromatic forests whence they had undoubtedly come. for it is hardly necessary to say that they were all land birds; and when during a calm one day one of them, stooping too near the sea, got wet, and was unable to rise again, august mcmanus, as tough a citizen as ever painted the highway red, leapt overboard after it, and, with a touch as gentle as the enwrapping of lint, rescued it from its imminent peril.

this strange development of sea-life went on for a week, the weather being exceedingly fine, with light winds and calms. and then we became suddenly aware that some large birds had arrived and taken up positions upon the upper yards, where they sat motionless, occasionally giving vent to a shrill cry. what they were none of us knew, until shortly after we had first noticed them one of our little messmates flew out from the ship’s side into the sunshine. there was a sudden swish of wings, like the lash of a cane through the air, and downward like a brown shadow came one of the watchers from aloft, snatching in a pair of cruel-looking talons the tiny truant from our midst. then the dullest of us realised that in some mysterious way these rapacious birds, a species of falcon, had become aware that around our ship might be found some of their natural food. now we were not less than 200 miles from the coast[161] at the time, and to my mind it was one of the strangest things conceivable how those hawks should have known that around a solitary ship far out at sea would be found a number of little birds suitable to their needs. the presence of the small birds might easily be explained by their having been blown off the land, as high winds had prevailed for some little time previous to their appearance, but as the hawks did not come till a week afterwards, during the whole of which time we had never experienced even a four-knot breeze, i am convinced that the same theory would not account for their arrival. it may have been a coincidence, but if so it was a very remarkable one; and in any case what were these essentially land birds of powerful flight doing of their own free will so far from land? unless, of course, they were a little band migrating, and even then the coincidence of their meeting our ship was a most strange one.

we, however, troubled ourselves but little with these speculations. the one thing patent to us was that our little pets were exposed to the most deadly peril, that these ravenous birds were carrying them off one by one, and we were apparently powerless to protect them. we could not cage them, although the absence of cages would have been no obstacle, as we should soon have manufactured efficient substitutes; but they were so happy in their freedom that we felt we could not deprive them of it. but we organised a raid among those bloodthirsty pirates, as we called them, forgetting that they were merely obeying the[162] law of their being, and the first dark hour saw us silently creeping aloft to where they had taken their roost. two were caught, but in both cases the captors had something to remember their encounter by. grasping at the shadowy birds in the darkness with only one free hand, they were unable to prevent the fierce creatures defending themselves with beak and talons, and one man came down with his prize’s claws driven so far into his hand that the wounds took many days to heal. when we had secured them we couldn’t bring ourselves to kill them, they were such handsome, graceful birds, but had they been given a choice in the matter i make no doubt they would have preferred a speedy death rather than the lingering pain of starvation which befell them. for they refused all food, and sat moping on their perches, only rousing when any one came near, and glaring unsubdued with their bold, fierce eyes, bright and fearless until they glazed in death. we were never able to catch any more of them, although they remained with us until our captain managed to allow the vessel to run ashore upon one of the enormous coral reefs that crop up here and there in the gulf of mexico. the tiny spot of dry land that appeared at the summit of this great mountain of coral was barren of all vegetation except a little creeping plant, a kind of arenaria, so that it would have afforded no satisfactory abiding-place for our little shipmates, even if any of them could escape the watchful eyes of their enemies aloft. so that i suppose after we abandoned the ship[163] they remained on board until she broke up altogether, and then fell an easy prey to the falcons.

this was the only occasion upon which i have known a vessel at sea to be visited by so varied a collection of small birds, and certainly the only case i have ever heard of where land birds have flown on board and made themselves at home. when i say at sea, of course i do not mean in a narrow strait like the channel, where passing vessels must often be visited by migrants crossing to or from the continent. but when well out in the north atlantic, certainly to the westward of the azores, and out of sight of them, i have several times known a number of swallows to fly on board and cling almost like bats to whatever projections they first happened to reach. exhausted with their long battle against the overmastering winds, faint with hunger and thirst, they had at last reached a resting-place, only to find it so unsuited to all their needs that nothing remained for them to do but die. earnest attempts were made to induce them to live, but unsuccessfully; and as they never regained strength sufficient to resume their weary journey, they provided a sumptuous meal for the ship’s cat. even had they been able to make a fresh start, it is hard to imagine that the sense of direction which guides them in their long flight from or to their winter haunts would have enabled them to shape a course from such an utterly unknown base as a ship at sea must necessarily be to them.

while making a passage up the china sea vessels are often boarded by strange bird visitors, and some of them may be induced to live upon such scanty fare as can be found for them on shipboard. i once witnessed with intense interest a gallant attempt made by a crane to find a rest for her weary wings on board of an old barque in which i was an able seaman. we were two days out from hong-kong, bound to manila, through a strong south-west monsoon. the direction of the wind almost enabled us to lay our course, and therefore the “old man” was cracking on, all the sail being set that she would stagger under close-hauled. being in ballast, she lay over at an angle that would have alarmed anybody but a yachtsman; but she was a staunch, weatherly old ship, and hung well to windward. it was my wheel from six to eight in the evening, and as i wrestled with it in the attempt to keep the old barky up to her work, i suddenly caught sight of the gaunt form of a crane flapping her heavy wings in dogged fashion to come up with us from to leeward, we making at the time about eight knots an hour. after a long fight the brave bird succeeded in reaching us, and coasted along the lee side, turning her long neck anxiously from side to side as if searching for a favourable spot whereon to alight. just as she seemed to have made up her mind to come inboard abaft the foresail, a gust of back-draught caught her wide pinions and whirled her away to leeward, about a hundred fathoms at one sweep, while it was evident that she had the utmost difficulty in maintaining her balance. another long struggle ensued as the gloom of the coming night deepened, and the steady, strenuous wind pressed us onward through the turbulent[165] sea. the weary pilgrim at last succeeded in fetching up to us again, and with a feeling of the keenest satisfaction i saw her work her way to windward, as if instinct warned her that in that way alone she would succeed in reaching a place of rest. backward and forward along our weather side she sailed twice, searching with anxious eye the whole of our decks, but fearing to trust herself thereon, where so many men were apparently awaiting to entrap her. no, she would not venture, and quite a pang of disappointment and sympathy shot through me as i saw her drift away astern and renew her hopeless efforts to board us on the lee side. at last she came up so closely that i could see the laboured heaving of her breast muscles, and i declare that the expression in her full, dark eyes was almost human in its pathos of despair. she poised herself almost above the rail, the vessel gave a great lee lurch, and down the slopes of the mizen came pouring an eddy of baffled wind. it caught the doomed bird, whirled her over and over as she fought vainly to regain her balance, and at last bore her down so closely to the seething tumult beneath her that a breaking wave lapped her up and she disappeared. all hands had witnessed her brave battle with fate, and quite a buzz of sympathy went up for her in her sad defeat.

that same evening one of the lads found a strange bird nestling under one of the boats. none of us knew what it was, for none of us ever remembered seeing so queer a creature before. nor will this be wondered at when i say that it was a goat-sucker, as i learned long afterwards by seeing a plate of one in a natural history i was reading. but the curious speculations that its appearance gave rise to in the fo’c’s’le were most amusing. the wide gape of its mouth, so unexpected when it was shut, was a source of the greatest wonder, while the downy fluff of its feathers made one man say it reminded him of a “nowl” that a skipper of a ship he was in once caught and kept alive for a long time as a pet.

of the few visitors that board a ship in mid-ocean none are more difficult to account for than butterflies. i have seen the common white butterfly fluttering about a ship in the north atlantic when she was certainly over 500 miles from the nearest land. and in various parts of the world butterflies and moths will suddenly appear as if out of space, although the nearest land be several hundreds of miles distant. i have heard the theory advanced that their chrysalides must have been on board the ship, and they have just been hatched out when seen. it may be so, although i think unlikely; but yet it is hard to imagine that so fragile a creature, associated only in the mind with sunny gardens or scented hillsides, could brave successfully the stern rigour of a flight extending over several hundred miles of sea. all that is certain about the matter is that they do visit the ships at such distances from land, and disappear as if disheartened at the unsuitability of their environment. lying in sant’ ana, mexico, once, loading mahogany, i witnessed the labours of an unbidden guest that made me incline[167] somewhat to the chrysalis theory about the butterflies. our anchorage was some three miles off shore in the open roadstead, where the rafts of great mahogany logs tossed and tumbled about ceaselessly alongside. they had all been a long time in the water before they reached us, and were consequently well coated with slime, which made them an exceedingly precarious footing for the unfortunate slingsman, who was as often in the water as he was on the raft. one evening as i lay in my bunk reading by the light of a smuggled candle, i was much worried by a persistent buzz that sounded very near, and far too loud to be the voice of any mosquito that i had ever been unfortunate enough to be attended by. several times i looked for this noisy insect without success, and at last gave up the task and went on deck, feeling sure there wasn’t room in the bunk for the possessor of that voice and myself. next day after dinner i was again lying in my bunk, resting during the remainder of the dinner hour, when to my amazement i saw what i took to be an overgrown wasp or hornet suddenly alight upon a beam overhead, walk into a corner, and begin the music that had so worried me overnight. i watched him keenly, but could hardly make out his little game, until he suddenly flew away. then getting a light, for the corner was rather dark, i discovered a row of snug apartments much like acorn-cups, only deeper, all neatly cemented together, and as smooth inside as a thimble. presently along came mr. wasp, or hornet, or whatever he was, again, and set to work, while i watched him as closely as i dared without giving him offence, noticing that he carried his material in a little blob on his chest between his fore legs. it looked like mud; but where could he get mud from? i could swear there was none on board under that fierce sun, and i couldn’t imagine him going six miles in five minutes, which he must needs have done had he gone ashore for it. so i watched his flight as well as i could, but it was two days before i discovered my gentleman on one of the logs alongside, scraping up a supply of slime, and skipping nimbly into the air each time the sea washed over his alighting-place. that mystery was solved at any rate. i kept careful watch over that row of dwellings thereafter, determined to suppress the whole block at the first sign of a brood of wasps making their appearance. none ever did, and at last i took down the cells with the greatest care, finding them perfectly empty. so i came to the conclusion that my ingenious and industrious guest had been building for the love of the thing, or for amusement, or to keep his hand in, or perhaps something warned him in time that the site he had selected for his eligible row of residences was liable to sudden serious vicissitudes of climate. at any rate, he abandoned them, much to my comfort.