It had fallen calm yesterday evening, and the funnel was raised at midnight, but the breeze sprang up again to-day, and at noon the fires were banked and the sails were set.  Of course it then fell calm again, and at six o’clock we were once more proceeding under steam.  There was one squall in the night, accompanied by the most tremendous rain I ever saw or heard.  We talk of tropical rain in England, but the real thing is very different.  It seemed just as if the bottom of an enormous cistern overhead had suddenly been removed, allowing the contents to fall exactly on the spot where we were.  The water came down in sheets, and was soon three or four inches deep on the deck, though it was pouring out of the scuppers all the time as fast as possible.

Sunday, December 17th.—­A showery morning.  We had Communion Service and hymns at eleven.  In the afternoon it was too rough for ‘church,’ and Tom was unable to deliver his intended address to the men.

Monday, December 18th.—­We were close-hauled, with a strong north-east wind, and heavy squalls and showers at intervals.  We saw several flying-fish and a good many birds, apparently hovering over a shoal of whales or grampuses.  It is wonderful how little life we have seen on this portion of our voyage.

Tuesday, December 19th.—­A fine day—­wind rather more fair—­sea still rough and disagreeable.  I tried to work hard all day, but found it very difficult.

Thursday, December 21st.—­Wind variable and baffling—­sometimes calm, sometimes squally, sometimes a nice breeze.  Sails were hoisted and lowered at least a dozen times, and fires were banked more than once.

Friday, December 22nd.—­At 6.30 a.m. we made the island of Hawaii, rather too much to leeward, as we had been carried by the strong current at least eighteen miles out of our course.  We were therefore obliged to beat up to windward, in the course of which operation we passed a large barque running before the wind—­the first ship we had seen since leaving Tahiti—­and also a fine whale, blowing, close to us.  We could not see the high land in the centre of the island, owing to the mist in which it was enveloped, and there was great excitement and much speculation on board as to the principal points which were visible.  At noon the observations taken proved that Tom was right in his opinion as to our exact position.  The wind dropped as we approached the coast, where we could see the heavy surf dashing against the black lava cliffs, rushing up the little creeks, and throwing its spray in huge fountain-like jets high above the tall cocoa-nut trees far inland.

We sailed along close to the shore, and by two o’clock were near the entrance to the Bay of Hilo.  In answer to our signal for a pilot a boat came off with a man who said he knew the entrance to the harbour, but informed us that the proper pilot had gone to Honolulu on a pleasure trip.