Our crew is keeping Christmas by a run on shore, which they all seem to enjoy exceedingly.  It is, indeed, very grateful to the senses to ramble about over even so confined a space as the Arcas, after tossing about at sea in a continued state of excitement for months.  Yesterday was the first time I touched the shore since I left Liverpool on the 18th August last, and I was only one week in Liverpool after a voyage of three weeks from the Bahamas; so that I have in fact been but one week on shore in five months.  My thoughts naturally turn on this quiet Christmas-day, in this lonely island, to my dear family.  I can only hope, and trust them to the protection of a merciful Providence.  The only sign of a holiday on board to-night is the usual “splicing of the main-brace”—­Anglice, giving Jack an extra allowance of grog.

Friday, December 26th.—­* * * Weather fine, but the barometer has gone down the tenth of an inch to day, and is now (7 P.M.) 29.96.  I shall begin to look for a norther in about twenty-four hours.  We commenced caulking our leaky decks to-day, and despatched the launch to assist in ballasting the barque.  I strolled on the islands to-day, and amused myself searching for shells along the beach.  There are some very pretty diminutive shells to be found, similar to those on the Florida coast; but none of a larger size than the common “conch,” of which there are a few.  We have made free with the turtle nets of the fishermen found in the huts, and have set them.  As yet, we have only caught two or three small turtle.  I landed on the south island to-day, where they are getting off ballast.  This islet is occupied exclusively by the black man-of-war bird; whilst the north islet seems to be divided between the white gannet (with the lower edges of its wings black) and the black warrior; the colonies being quite distinct.  The birds are still laying and incubating.

Saturday, December 27th.—­The barometer has risen again, and the weather still continues fine.  Ballasting the barque, and overhauling and setting up our topmast and lower rigging, and caulking decks.  Took a stroll in the north island towards sunset.  It is dull recreation after the novelty has worn off, with the somewhat tough walking through the sand, and the smell and filth of the clouds of gannet.

Sunday, December 28th.—­Weather cloudy, with the wind from the N.E.  At 8.30 descried a schooner from aloft in the N.W., the first sail we have seen, and quite an unexpected sight at this season of the year.  After we had armed and manned the cutter, to board the sail when it should heave in sight from the deck, it was ascertained that the look out had been deceived, and that the supposed sail was probably a cloud in the horizon, it having suddenly disappeared.