have to cross it. They are often baffled in it for two or three weeks; then the children and the passengers who are of delicate health suffer most. It is a frightful graveyard on the wayside to that golden land. A vessel bound into the southern hemisphere from Europe or America, after clearing the region of variable winds and crossing the "horse latitudes," enters the north-east trades. Here the mariner finds the sky sometimes mottled with clouds, but for the most part clear. Here, too, he finds his barometer rising and falling under the ebb and flow of a regular atmospherical tide, which gives a high and low barometer every day with such regularity that the hour within a few minutes may be told by it. The rise and fall of this tide, measured by the barometer, amounts to about one-tenth (0.1) of an inch, audit occurs daily and everywhere between the tropics: the maximum about 10 h. 30 m. a.m., the minimum between 4 h. and 5 h. p.m., with a second maximum and minimum about 10 p.m. and 5 a.m.[1] The diurnal variation of the needle (§ 344) changes also with the turning of these invisible tides. Continuing his course towards the equinoctial line, and entering the region of equatorial calms and rains, the navigator feels the weather to become singularly close and oppressive; he discovers here that the elasticity of feeling which he breathed from the trade-wind air has forsaken him; he has entered the doldrums, and is under the "cloud-ring."
515. A frigate under the cloud-ring.—I find in the journal of the late Commodore Arthur Sinclair, kept on board the United States frigate Congress during a cruise to South America in 1817-18, a picture of the weather under this cloud-ring that is singularly graphic and striking. He encountered it in the month of January, 1818, between the parallel of 4° north and the equator, and between the meridians of 19° and 23° west. He says of it, "This is certainly one of the most unpleasant regions in our globe. A dense, close atmosphere, except for a few hours after a thunderstorm, during which time torrents of rain fall, when the air becomes a little refreshed; but a hot, glowing sun soon heats it again, and but for your awnings, and the little air put in circulation by the continual flapping of the ship's sails, it would be almost insufferable. No person who has not crossed this region can form an adequate idea of its unpleasant effects.
- ↑ See paper on Meteorological Observations in India, by Colonel Sykes, Philosophical Transactions for 1850, part ii., page 297.
