The lull only deceived us, as we had scarcely gotten under way, before the gale raged with increased violence, and we were obliged to buffet it with all the force of our four boilers.  The wind blew fiercely; but still we drove her between five and six knots per hour in the very teeth of it.

Nothing could exceed the peculiar weird-like aspect of the scene, as we struggled under the full moonlight with the midnight gale.  The surrounding mountains and high lands, seemingly at a great distance in the hazy atmosphere, had their tops piled with banks of fleecy clouds, remaining as motionless as snow-banks, which they very much resembled—­the cold south wind assisting the illusion; the angry waters of the bay breaking in every direction, occasionally dashing on board of us; the perfectly clear sky, with no sign of a cloud anywhere to be seen, except those piled on the mountains already mentioned;—­the bright full moon, shedding her mysterious rays on all surrounding objects—­illuminating, yet distancing them—­all these were things to be remembered.  And last, the revolving light on the Cape, at regular intervals, lighting up the renowned old headland.

We passed the Cape at about 3 A.M., and bearing away gave her the trysails reduced by their bonnets, and close-reefed topsails; and I turned in to snatch a brief repose, before the trials of another day should begin.

Friday, September 25th.—­Delivered the jail, as usual, upon getting to sea.  It will take several days, I am afraid, to work the grog out of the crew, before they are likely to settle down into good habits and cheerfulness.

The next fortnight’s run through the heavy gales that prevail almost incessantly in the higher latitudes of the Indian Ocean, brought the Alabama some 2400 miles upon her course.  Two days more brought her off the Island of St. Paul’s, a distance of 2840 miles.  Another couple of days, and she had made about sufficient easting, and began to shape her course towards the north—­the “sunny north.”

A few short extracts from the journal will give sufficient idea of the period thus passed through:—­

October 16th.—­Lat. 35.23; Long. 89.55; no observations for current; distance some 135 miles.  The gale in which we lay-to ten hours, having broken in upon our day’s work.  Bar. 29.57, and on a stand; running before the wind, under close-reef and reefed foresail.  Afternoon gale increased, and between twelve and one it blew furiously, the whole sea being a sheet of foam, the air rendered misty by the spray, and the heavy seas threatening to jump on board of us, although we were scudding at the rate of very little less than fifteen knots—­the whole accompanied by an occasional snow-squall from dark, threatening-looking clouds.  It is not often that a wilder scene is beheld:  in the meantime the Cape pigeons are whirling around us, occasionally poising themselves against the stern, as serenely, apparently, as if the elements were at rest.