We arrived at this port day before yesterday, one hundred and thirty-two days from New York.

I wrote you at “Anjer” on the 9th of August, which place we left on the following evening having procured a supply of yams, sweet potatoes, plantains, bananas, cocoa-nuts, tamarinds, fowls, ducks & paddy (rice in the “hull”) to feed them on, pumpkins and fresh water. Of these, the yams & water alone were intended for the benefit or use of the “people.” To be sure, we would occasionally get a plantain or banana smuggled out of the maintop by a boy setting to’gallant studd’n sails in the night, and we were welcome to the cocoa-nuts’ shells—rinds, I should say—after the Captain had drunk their contents. East Indians never think of eating them except with a spoon when in a pulpy state, as it were.

We bought “amongst us” two large green turtles—but when the first was killed, the best part of it was taken for the Captain’s table & supplied it for some days, while we had but one meal. The other was launched overboard. They called it sick, but the way it struck out for Cochin China was a caution to doctors.

We had a most remarkable passage through the “straits.” We had anticipated a very hard & dangerous time. There is a beautiful clipper built English vessel now lying by us which was over three weeks getting through; anchoring every night. I think we were but three days, and did not anchor once. The second night we were becalmed and all hands kept up some time expecting to anchor. The magazine was opened, guns loaded with grape, &c, [149] for you know this sea (“Java Sea”) is infested with Malay pirates, who very often attack vessels. But just as we were about to drop the kedge, a light breeze sprang up. It soon became strong & so favorable that we could lay our course. Sunday (twelfth, I think) p.m. land was made right ahead, and at dark we were almost enclosed by it. Before midnight we passed. “Jasper” Island at the head of the (“Jaspar” or “Gaspar”) Straits & were in the China Sea.

The next morning I made three sail from the royal masthead. Before night we were near enough to see that they were “Malay Proas.” Our course was altered a little & next morning they were out of sight. We were now standing before the regular “monsoons”—which gave us plenty of work. Thus at daylight we are “right before it” carrying lower, topmast, topgallant & royal stud’n sails on both sides.

The wind shifts a little over our starboard quarter. “Brace the yards!” “Let go to stab’d.” “Man the lee braces.” “Fore brace!” “Hold on to starb’d!” “Well!” “Make Fast.” “Topsail brace”—“well!”

“To’g’l’t brace”—“well!”

“Royal brace a small pull—belay!” “Haul taut to stab’d!” “So!” “All Well.”

“Main brace!” And so with all the main braces. (He takes another look.)

“Braces a little more!” “In lower stud’n sail!” (larboard).

It hauls still more. Braces again. We haul the stud’n s’l tacks as taut as possible, but they shake.

“In fore topmast stud’n s’l.” “Clap on the downhaul.” “Take in to’g’l’t stud’n sail, Sir!” “In to’g’l’t s’ls.” “Up into the top, you boys. Haul in fore & main t’g’l’t & royal stud’n sails. Make them up in the top.”

By the time all this is done, the wind is coming back again. The first thing is to set the lee foretopmast stud’n sail. (The hardest sail in the ship to set.) Then royal & to’gallant stud’n s’ls or these first, lower stud’n sails. The wind continues hauling and the same operation goes on : bracing to starboard, slacking larboard stud’n sail tacks—tauting the starboard & soon taking them in one after another & perhaps setting spanker, gaff topsail, jib & Hying jib. These two operations perhaps occupy us for an hour or two.

A dark cloud is seen rising on our larboard bow. Those that have a chance perhaps put on an oil jacket. The cloud rises small, or rather narrow, but long. Likely, we see a distant water spout (we did notice several). The wind is perhaps subsiding. All hands on deck busy washing down, feeding the fowls, &c. & paying no attention to the weather, till: “Stand by fore-royal halyards!” Then we all knock off work & soon one is standing by the main royal & to’gallant & fore royal & to’gallant halyards.

The squall strikes us. Everyone is wet through & those not “standing by” crowd under the lee of the rail. The old man comes on deck having [150]

[151] noticed the barometer. “Clup fry’l” (“Clew up the fore royal.”) “Haul down flying jib.” “Clew up main-royal.” “Lay aloft you b’ys & furl ’em.”

One boy goes to each royal (in the first place, I should have got in all the studding sails & braced her sharp up—for the wind comes out ahead in the squalls & we are not “Full & bye.”) By the time the boys are at work aloft : “Look out for yourselves on the to’g’l’t yard!” They are hauled from below & the fore & main to’gallant sails are doused, but hardly ever furled.

In ten or fifteen minutes (from commencement) the squall breaks. “Hoist the main-to’g’l’t sail!” then the fore. The royals are loosed, sheeted home & hoisted up, flying jib set & gaff topsail. Then we have a bracing spell—or rather a squaring—for as the squall passes, the wind is coming on her quarter again; & one after another, the studdingsails are set.

Oh! This is the weather to kill sailors. Anyone of us had rather see a gale & reef topsails, than a light fair wind & the everlasting studding sails. We were often kept at work with scarce a minute’s rest the whole night watch. But about two weeks before our arrival to our great astonishment we were becalmed & when we did get a wind it was ahead. And so it continued all day & night. The Captain was expecting it to change every hour, but to our delight we were still braced sharp up. No studding sails for forty-eight hours afforded us great relief. But such a thing in the “regular monsoons” had never been heard of before. It was at least a month too early. What could it mean? Deuce a bit did we care. So it did not mean to come back again.

We now had fine times—working at jobs in the daytime & in the night. “Come on deck to sleep & go below to rest.” That is, when it was not squally, as it still often was. But often, if not generally, the watch below slept on deck. At eight bells, perhaps, throwing the blanket off & putting on a pea jacket. Then, if it was not one’s lookout or wheel, coiling away on the studd’n sail again.

By day all hands were employed fitting the ship for port & for show. A flying skysail was made’ & royal stud’n sail soon after we left the straits, & the skin is yet to grow where I barked my shins on the to’gallant & royal shrouds & backstays, becketting & unbecketting that bothering little pocket-handkerchief flying kite. Now three or four hands were sewing on the poop & boat awnings. The guns and gun-carriages were scraped & painted, & much of the iron work was scraped & oiled. The carpenter was employed on the gig which with the surf boat & pinnace were painted in the best manner. The best seamen were pointing & grafting gun gear, making fancy boat gripes &c, &c.

For my part, I had a job which I liked very well: it was making an enlarged (800%) chart of the entrance to Canton River, including Macao & Hong Kong. (By the way, that should be “Hong Kong,” not “Hong Kong.”) The Captain was much pleased with it, & I presume on that account, partly, has made me his clerk here.

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On the 30th of August we made land (about noon) and next morning were in sight of the island or the islands of which Hong Kong is one. It was not till noon of the 2nd instant that we got up opposite the town—which will show you what kind of winds we have been among lately. (Twenty-seven miles)

I was three days in the cabin copying invoices, writing (advertising) circulars, &c., during which time I eat at the second table with second mate, carpenter & sailmaker. I wrote the above in knock-off time and such “spells” as I could manage to get while there. I have had no time to go on with it.

P.S. I open to say that it is uncertain how soon the Talbot (not the Panama) is to sail: but as she has taken on board a chop boatload of sweetmeats, we judge it will be soon.