I had given up my intention as expressed in my letter to Aunt Maria & the girls, of writing you, as it appeared there was nothing to sail before us. But yesterday, very unexpectedly, I went to Canton, passenger in the boat as [184] “liberty man,” & most rejoiced I was to hear from [you] again before we left, in a letter I obtained there (date June 11th—18th), & this morning the Doctor informs me the Helena will get under weigh tonight. How long she may stay at Macao I can’t say. But even if we get to sea before her, which is not likely at all, I doubt not you may receive this some weeks before we arrive as she is one of the crack ones, & made a most remarkable passage out, ’round the “Horn.”

Your last previously by Zenobia received October 21st. We expect our last chop of tea tomorrow & shall probably sail Saturday, to anchor some four miles off Macao for a day or two. And then Hurrah for blue water, & if ever a poor beshaken & befevered set of fellows could send home their topsails nimbly, we shall, for everyone thinks that he shall recover his strength & spirits & be somewhat less certain of being on the sick list in course of a week.

I enclose the “finale” of John’s letter. I meant to have written you a caution to read what you pleased loud to the family, &c., as I presume you did. I wanted to give you an idea of the altered manners of our mate. By the way, I have to complain of no personal ill treatment. The only punishment—besides “working up” which is going on with some body all the time—I have had, has been being kept up part of my watch, or at work during part of dinner hour, or something of that kind. The other boys have been each ropes’ ended; one “at the wheel” (particularly forbidden by law) pretty severely. I have no fear of its happening, that’s more. But I get my full share of abuse, which is unavoidable by any course of conduct. Our stores are not in the best condition : sour Hour, sour meal (sour “mush,”) the beans have a confounded queer taste, not the most desirable—which is too bad—for a pan of baked beans by favor of the cook—saved from the “sodimont” as our mate would say of the soup—used to be the best thing I could get in the ship. Nobody complains of the beef, salt, but when it was taken from the coppers it would almost bring tears to my eyes at twelve feet distance. Yet all hands are growling because the Captain has stopped it entirely—because we [have] but just enough to last home—& “will be glad when we get to sea & rid of this __________ fresh buffalo beef.” After all, don’t think we are going to suffer. I anticipate a pretty comfortable & pleasant passage. Coming out when not sick I was happy enough, half the time enjoyed myself, I presume, better than anybody aboard.

We had a fine warm day yesterday, though I had hardly more time than before, as in going up we had such a strong tide against us that we did not get there till afternoon. After we had got dinner, some went one way & some another. Some soon found the second mate after them, who told them to look for the others & send them down to the boat; others soon got the same message. I for one took care to look for myself & made some purchases. We managed to humbug about “looking for” each other for some hours & did [185] [not] get away much before night—having the tide against us again. I enjoyed it very much, & got besides a Mandarin (everything is Mandarin that’s peculiar to China & want[ed] to be sold I suppose) cap, sword (1st chop), knife, chop-sticks, [ . . . ] a few etceteras.

Confoundedly tired, a headache & the slightest degree sick—which will account for the excessive dullness of this letter, the whole of which I believe only informs you of my returning health & strength & the prospect of our soon being on our way home. Home! home!! The thought of seeing you once more—Oh my, I can’t sit still, to think of it.

Poor Jim, he turned to again yesterday morning, & when I returned from town, I found him back with a fever. Today he feels pretty well again, but has a slight dysentery. Since his first severe illness in which for a short time he was very low, he, like everyone else, has had a constant succession of attacks, only his have come oftener & lasted longer. One week at sea and we shall all be as well as ever—so he says—& I think he’s right.

We have now but five sick; one turned to this morning & probably one or two will to-morrow.

Well—there will be one advantage in our having remained so late—we avoid a winter coast, a sailor’s dread when coming from warm climates.

Give her four months, and begin first January.

The overland arrived yesterday I hear & news, the mate said, was unfavorable—but to what I don’t know.

Here it is again, “Knock-off!” I do hate the finishing of a letter. You all know there, how I love you, well then have a kissing match all round & tell each other Fred sent it.