At 11 A.M. mustered the crew and inspected the ship.  A quiet Sabbath.  Strolled on the island towards sunset, with the gannets for companions, the surf for music, and the heavy sand for a promenade.  The weather cleared at nightfall, with the breeze fresh from the N.N.E.  Some of the men are getting tired of their hard service; the chief boatswain’s-mate having applied to return to England in the barque.  Refused him permission, of course.  Constant cruising, vigilance against being surprised by the enemy, salt provisions, and a deprivation of the pleasures of port, so dear to the heart of a seaman, are probably what most of them did not expect.  A tight rein and plenty of work will cure the evil.

Monday, December 29th.—­Weather clear and fine.  At daylight hauled the barque alongside, and commenced coaling.  Another seaman got drunk to-day, and seized his bag to go on board the barque to return to England.  Confined him in double irons.  Many of my fellows no doubt thought they were shipping in a sort of privateer, where they would have a jolly good time and plenty of license.  They have been wofully disappointed, for I have jerked them down with a strong hand, and now have a well-disciplined ship of war, punishment invariably follows immediately on the heels of the offence.  It has taken me three or four months to accomplish this, but when it is considered that my little kingdom consisted of one hundred and ten of the most reckless from the groggeries of Liverpool, this is not much.

Tuesday, December 30th.—­The weather still continues remarkably fine, with a moderate breeze from the E.S.E.  We finished coaling to-day, and hauled the barque off in the afternoon.  Getting ready generally for our dash at the enemy’s coasts; or rather, at the enemy on our own coasts, of which he is in possession.  A brig hove in sight to-day to the S. and E., approaching the islands on the starboard tack, until she became visible from the bridge, and then tacking—­probably a Frenchman, making way from Vera Cruz to the eastward on the banks.  Took my usual afternoon stroll on shore.  About nightfall, the sky assumes a peculiarly lurid aspect, becoming dark overhead, whilst the western horizon is lighted up with the rays of the setting sun, although there is not a cloud visible.  One witnessing such a scene elsewhere would fancy himself on the eve of a storm; I attribute it to the reflection from the green waters of the bank.  We have cleared away all the old eggs from the gannets’ nests, and these prolific layers are now supplying us with fresh.  Of fish we can catch none, except by trolling.  We have no better success with our turtle nets.

Wednesday, December 31st.—­The weather has been good all day, though we have had a heavy surf on all the reefs, indicating that there is a gale somewhere in our vicinity—­probably a norther, along the Mexican coast to the west of us.  The wind is at N.N.E. and moderate, and the barometer has been rising all day, though it has not been a tenth below 30.21; it is now (4 P.M.) 30.15, so we shall probably not feel the gale here.