If we touched them, they merely dragged themselves, with great difficulty, a few paces further, although they could rise very easily from the surface of the water, and fly extremely high.
One of the gentlemen was exceedingly anxious to kill and stuff one of them, but the superstition of the sailors was opposed to this.
They said that if birds were killed on board ship, their death would be followed by long calms.

We yielded to their wishes and restored the little creatures to the air and waves, their native elements.
This was another proof that superstition is still deep-rooted in the minds of sailors.

Of this we had afterwards many other instances.
The captain, for example, was always very averse to the passengers amusing themselves with cards or any other game of chance; in another vessel, as I was informed, no one was allowed to write on Sunday, etc.

Empty casks or logs of wood were also very frequently thrown overboard during a calm--probably as sacrifices to the deities of the winds.
On the morning of the 16th of September we at last had the good fortune to perceive the mountains before Rio Janeiro, and soon singled out the Sugarloaf.

At 2 o'clock, P.M., we entered the bay and port of Rio Janeiro.
Immediately at the entrance of the bay are several conical rocks, some of which, like the Sugarloaf, rise singly from the sea, while others are joined at the base, and are almost inaccessible.