66 nine P.M. the noisy, thundering bell of the Docks sounded the hour of repose, when all lights are ordered to be put out, under a penalty of ten pounds. But this curfew of modern times did not prevent our burning a candle on the sly," as the sailors term it; and covering the skylight with a tarpaulin, and locking the cabin-door, we sat very comfortably without molestation until ten o'clock. By-and-by, the custom-house officer came down, and after the old gentleman had fastened the doors, he stretched himself on the sofa immediately below my berth, and commenced snoring most famously, (as only a custom-house officer can,) until the same thundering bell proclaimed the hour of six on the following morning. My sleep was frequently broken by the nasal music of this gentleman of the "customs," which combined with many new and strange sounds, such as the dog's feet patting up and down the deck overhead; the distant "pulley hoy" of vessels going out by the night tide, and the gentle ripple and plash of the water just level with my head, filled my sleep with strange and singular nautical dreams. The morning was unusually warm, and the weather calm and settled. About one, P.M, we left St. Katharine's Docks, and were towed by a steam-tug down the river towards Gravesend, where we put the officer ashore. After passing this place, the river became much wider, and as the shades of evening gathered in, the low distant shores melted away in the twilight haze, and the numerous vessels scattered here and there looked like- black specks on the surface of the quiet water. Before us was the Nore light, and to the left, the lights of Southend sparkled brightly in the distance; while on our right, the lamps of Sheerness, in the Isle of Sheppey, were equally visible. A few young porpoises, and a solitary sea-gull, gave token of our approach to the ocean, and about nine o'clock we cast anchor one mile to the westward of the Nore. Aug. 18.-At five o'clock this morning we got under weigh. The atmosphere was hazy, and after we had passed the Reculvers, in sight on our starboard side, we were becalmed for several hours. The glassy waters around were smooth and placid as a lake, and at noon it was oppressively hot. On looking over the stern of the vessel, I observed numbers of medusæ rising through the water. After several attempts, I succeeded in catching one in a basket let down by a rope; and when I had made a coloured sketch of the creature, I again committed him to his watery home. I was not a little amused when the captain and sailors positively assured me that it was only the strength and filth of the water;" and I could not persuade them that it was an organized and created being. 66 By-and-by the breeze again sprang up, and as we tacked about, Margate and the surrounding shores were frequently in sight. At seven o'clock we cast anchor in the Downs, and the wind blowing strongly from the south-west, gave us a pretty fair tossing. Here our pilot left us, by whom I sent letters ashore. The sky looked wild and stormy, but the stars shone brilliantly between the dark masses of cloud, and our little vessel rose and fell on the surging water, as we lay moored off Deal for the night. Aug. 19.-The morning rose bright and serene, and before I went upon deck we were passing the Straits of Dover. The white cliffs of the South Foreland presented a fine effect, with the morning sunshine upon them, and the picturesque town and castle of Dover were interesting objects from the water. The scene was still more enlivened by numerous vessels of all sizes lying scattered over the gently sparkling waves. The morning haze that hung like a veil over the south, prevented our seeing much of the French coast, but the heights of Calais were distinctly visible. About noon we were again nearly becalmed. The towns of Folkestone and Hythe, with Romney, and the entrance to its extensive marshes, successively presented themselves to our view. Towards dusk, we rounded that long promontory of shingle, Dungeness, nearly at the extremity of which is the well-known and conspicuous lighthouse. The waters were like a sheet of glass; the last gentle breeze had died away, and we lay motionless on the sea. The sails hung silently aloft, whilst above us shone down through the cloudless sky thousands of stars whose brilliancy, mingling with the bright lustre of one glorious planet upon the waters, gave additional loveliness and magnificence to the whole scene. The beauty of the night tempted me to linger on the deck till long after the last wild fowl had sailed past us on his flight to the marshes; and it was with reluctance that I exchanged the landscape of sea and starlight, for my close cabin quarters below. Aug. 20.-At seven o'clock this evening, we had a brisk breeze; all sails are spread, we are now off the Isle of Wight, and I am only wishing for a pair of wings to enable me to revisit that delightful spot. I have watched its rugged cliffs until distance and the mists of evening shrouded them from my sight, and the flame of St. Catherine's lighthouse was the only spot discernible in the horizon. Aug. 21, four, A. M.-The breeze during the night has increased, and it is now blowing violently against us with a heavy sea. I remained on deck all day, and securing myself with a rope to the lockers, weathered wind and waves. Notwithstanding several good duckings from the spray, I enjoyed the novelty of my situation, and preferred it greatly to lying in my bed-cabin. At two o'clock we passed Purbeck Island, and I had a fine view of that barren and rocky coast. At five o'clock we tacked out to run towards the French shore; but as the weather became more stormy we were driven back, and put in for shelter into the Portland Roads, where we cast anchor along with a little fleet of forty or fifty vessels, all weather-bound like ourselves. Aug. 22.-We rode at anchor all night, and this morning I went on shore at Portland Island with some of the sailors, who took casks with them to obtain some fresh water. This remarkable promontory or bill, as it is called, is connected to the main land by a ridge of sand several miles in length, forming an excellent shelter for vessels from the westerly gales. On reaching a small village on the western side of the rock, I got some letters conveyed to the post; and after exploring the barren place, and providing ourselves with some watercresses for tea, we returned on board, though even in this sheltered bay the waves were so rough that our boat was very nearly capsized. We dined off a fresh leg of mutton that we brought from London, and this will probably be the last fresh meat we shall taste until we arrive at Malta. Three, P. M.; as the wind appeared rather more favourable we set sail again; but before we had well got clear of the harbour, it blew with greater violence than ever. We had now to pass through the Race of Portland-a dangerous place-with the sea running very high and the waves standing up almost perpendicularly, resembling those pictures we occasionally meet with of Moses dividing the waters of the Red Sea. The captain desired Mrs. B. and myself to go below whilst we were passing through the Race, but 'before we could well do so the waves swept completely over us. At six o'clock we turned in to our berths, but not to sleep, for it soon blew a heavy gale which continued raging from seven until twelve o'clock, accompanied with torrents of rain. At midnight it suddenly fell a dead calm. During the storm the waves ran mountains high, and the wild confusion of the elements produced a sound like the tumult of a mighty mob. This dreadful discord was only broken at intervals by the shouts of the captain giving orders to the crew, and the noise and bustle of the sailors securing the sails and other moveables on the deck. Aug. 23.-Early this morning the waves still rolled very high from last night's gale, and we have been out of sight of land all day until eight o'clock when we made Dartmouth. To-day I turned cook, and made some dumplings for our dinner, which we partook of upon the cabin floor. My dumplings were more fortunate than King Alfred's cakes, as they turned out very good, and the captain and mate did them ample justice. Aug. 24.- Off Plymouth, in sight of the Eddystone lighthouse. To-day we took our departure from the Lizard, distant about twenty-five miles north. The mainsail, as it flapped in the wind, knocked the captain's hat overboard, and he is now looking very grand in an old "southwester." As a winding up, the Channel sent a mighty farewell wave, which swept all over the decks, and not one of us escaped without a good ducking. Aug. 25.-We are now clear of the Channel, where we have been tossing about a whole week. Yesterday we bade adieu to the land, and to-day not a single sail has appeared in the horizon. The only objects are a few sea-gulls skimming over the waves. We dined on the cabin floor off a miserable fowl, very lean and boiled to atoms. I attribute its emaciated condition to melancholy, and sorrow at leaving its native land, and being shut up during the past week in the long boat. Even as I am writing I hear dreadful screams on the deck, which assure me that a second unhappy creature is being sacrificed to our voracious appetites. As they pine so fast we are to dine upon them every day, till not one remains to tell its tale of woe! Half-past eleven, P. M.,—I had no sooner retired to my berth than the mate called me up again to see a shoal of porpoises playing around the vessel; they had a most curious and beautiful appearance, being quite luminous; their phosphorescent brightness was indeed so great that they resembled fishes of fire, as gliding along swiftly they left a shining track of light behind them. In the wake of the vessel thousands of bright sparkling animals were constantly in motion, lighting the curl of every wave. The water in the Bay of Biscay is extremely clear and translucent, and of a deep blue colour. On looking over the stern of the vessel, I could frequently discern her keel, and clearly see the smallest objects that were many feet below the surface. The depth of water in the Bay has never been ascertained, and it is said to be fathomless. One of the sailors gravely assured me that it had no bottom at all, and extended quite through the globe to the other side, where it is known by the name of the Chinese Sea! Aug. 27.-This morning was ushered in by a thick fog, through which the sun in vain endeavoured to penetrate. We are now approaching latitude 45°, where strong winds and doubtful weather so generally prevail that they have become proverbial amongst seamen. We are one hundred miles distant from Cape Finisterre, running on with all sails spread. Towards evening, the wind increased until seven o'clock, when it blew very strong, but fortunately in our favour, from the east, and we flew along over the waves instead of meeting them. The captain reefed the sails, and even then we ran at the rate of ten knots an hour. The waves were very magnificent, and on a much larger scale than in the Channel; they appeared sometimes as though they would overwhelm the vessel, when suddenly each mountainous billow sank as quietly as it rose, and was soon succeeded by another of equally terrific magnitude. As the wind blew the spray from their foamy crests, the sun shining through them formed myriads of small rainbows, which were as evanescent as they were beautiful. Whilst gazing with delight at these beautiful prismatic reflections, a tremendous wave came sweeping along the side of the vessel, and breaking directly over me wetted me thoroughly to the skin. Nor was this the only misfortune that befell me, for soon afterwards Mrs. B. and I went down to tea in the cabin below; we had no sooner poured it out than the vessel gave a heavy lurch, and precipitated tea-pot, cups and saucers, with all their scalding contents, into our laps. We were in this miserable condition when the captain came down, and added to our trouble by scolding us well for not having our tea as usual upon the floor. Aug. 28.-We passed Cape Finisterre, the north-western extremity of Spain, during the night, though at a considerable distance. The morning is charming, it breathes of a southern climate: the air is fresh, but so soft and warm as to render it quite luxurious. At nine o'clock the thermometer stood at 87° in the shade, and on deck the sun was quite scorching. We are now sailing in a southerly direction, about twenty-five miles from the coast of Spain; and were it not for the haze, or "loom of the land," as the sailors term it, we should be able to see it quite plainly. In the morning a large shoal of porpoises played around the bows of the vessel. The harpoon was got out, and the mate at the first thrust plunged it up to the hilt in the body of one of them, which probably might measure about eight feet. Unfortunately the harpoon snapped in two with the struggles of the animal, and giving a tremendous leap out of the water, the poor creature darted down again like lightning through the water, bearing the barbed weapon deep within him, and for a considerable distance the waves were red with its gushing blood. All the other porpoises in the shoal followed it immediately, as the sailors said, to make a meal on their unhappy companion as soon as his dying struggles were over. During the day we saw several whales, at a short distance from the ship, spouting up water like a fountain, and blowing with a noise resembling that of an elephant. Four, P. M.-We are once more becalmed; the Spanish coast is visible at a great distance, with a yellow haze resting upon it. Thousands of the most venomous little flies imaginable have entered the cabin, and are stinging us most cruelly. We have tried to kill them, but they are so uncommonly lively, and come in such numbers, that it is utterly impossible to get rid of them. The captain affirms that he can hear them swearing and growling at him because he will not let them have a chance of biting him. Our feet and hands are stung all over from their furious attacks. Mrs. B. has accounted for their appearance in a very philosophic manner. She supposes them to be the flies we brought from St. Katharine's Docks, who having just recovered from their sea-sickness, are come out with very keen appetites. The sunset this evening was peculiarly beautiful. From a cloudless sky of the purest blue the sun sank majestically in the west, bathed in a flood of the most vivid scarlet, gradually melting off into orange and yellow, till at last it produced that warm glow of atmosphere so much admired in the works of Claude Lorraine. The moon, too, was brighter and clearer than in more northerly climates, and being nearly at the full, it renders the evenings on deck very pleasant and delightful. Aug. 29.-During the day the sea has been nearly a perfect calm and the air very hot. The evening brought no breeze, but the moon and the stars shone brightly, and only a few fleecy clouds stole almost imperceptibly along the sky. Several huge black fish rose within a few yards of the vessel, and made such a noise with their blowing, that the dog we had on board commenced barking at them, believing, no doubt, that they were nightly intruders come with dishonest intentions. Aug. 30.-The early morning was hazy, but the sun soon burst out with an unusual degree of warmth, and not a breath of air fanned the sleeping surface of the waters; |