Sailing-vessels making this voyage, as we were told, carry casks of cheap oil, which in some cases they use to still the boisterous sea about them when "God maketh the deep to boil like a pot." Is it generally known that our own Benjamin Franklin first suggested, about a century ago, the carrying of oil to sea by vessels for this purpose? Our shrewd American philosopher was also the first to propose, about the same period, that ship-builders should construct the hulls of vessels in water-tight compartments, thus affording them sufficient sustaining power to float when by accident portions of the hull became leaky or broken in. After the lapse of a century both precautions have been generally adopted. If oil can be used to good effect anywhere upon troubled waters, we should judge that it might be on the track of vessels between Tasmania and South New Zealand.
The longest night must have an end. The half-hour strokes of the sonorous ship's-bell rang upon the ear through the fierce howling of the gale, until the morning light finally broke, which seemed to be a signal for the abating of the storm, as by and by the sun rose bright and clear from behind the yet mountainous waves. No observation had been obtained on the previous day owing to the cloudy condition of the sky, so that it was impossible exactly to define our position; but dead reckoning showed we must be nearing the land, and as the sea began rapidly to subside, it was evident that we were under the lee of the shore. As the day advanced, the sun burned away the mist and revealed to us the mountains of the southern coast of New Zealand, with their tops clad in virgin white. Midway between summit and base cloud-wreaths decked the range of hills, which in the sun's rays seemed struggling with one another for precedence. We skirted the mainland for hours, encountering numerous islands, now and again opening dark mountain gorges which came down to the very shore, enabling one to look deep into the mysterious heart of the hills and discover new peaks extending far inland. Clouds of sea-martins wheeled about the ship, saluting us with strange cries, some alighting upon our very topmasts, where they paused for a moment and then launched into the air again. This sea-bird, in size between the common gull and the Cape-pigeon, is peculiar to this coast; we had never seen a live specimen before. As they settle upon the water or rise from it, their red legs become conspicuous, and are in singular contrast to their soft white bodies and light slate-colored wings. They are a tame and fearless bird, flying about the ship almost within arm's reach. One was secured by a foremast hand and brought aft, seeming to care no more for his temporary captivity than a domestic fowl would have done. Their feathery covering is exquisitely soft and glossy, the under part of the wings and the body having a covering as delicate as the downy plumage of young goslings. Our feathery captive when released joined his companions, and was saluted by loud cries of welcome.