Dr. Seward was very doubtful if we could reach Bombay before what is called the break of the monsoon took place.  This break occurs usually between the end of May and the 12th of June.  The wind still blows from Africa to India, but with so much violence, and with such a murky atmosphere, that few or no observations for position can be taken.  We were, however, at the time very anxious to dispose of the “Lady Nyassa,” and, the only market we could reach being Bombay, we resolved to run the risk of getting there before the stormy period commenced; and, after taking fourteen tons of coal on board, we started on the 30th April from Zanzibar.

Our complement consisted of seven native Zambesians, two boys, and four Europeans; namely, one stoker, one sailor, one carpenter, whose names have been already mentioned, and Dr. Livingstone, as navigator.  The “Lady Nyassa” had shown herself to be a good sea-boat.  The natives had proved themselves capital sailors, though before volunteering not one of them had ever seen the sea.  They were not picked men, but, on paying a dozen whom we had in our employment for fifteen months, they were taken at random from several hundreds who offered to accompany us.  Their wages were ten shillings per mensem, and it was curious to observe, that so eager were they to do their duty, that only one of them lay down from sea-sickness during the whole voyage.  They took in and set sail very cleverly in a short time, and would climb out along a boom, reeve a rope through the block, and come back with the rope in their teeth, though at each lurch the performer was dipped in the sea.  The sailor and carpenter, though anxious to do their utmost, had a week’s severe illness each, and were unfit for duty.

It is pleasant enough to take the wheel for an hour or two, or even for a watch, but when it comes to be for every alternate four hours, it is utterly wearisome.  We set our black men to steer, showing them which arm of the compass needle was to be kept towards the vessel’s head, and soon three of them could manage very well, and they only needed watching.  In going up the East Coast to take advantage of the current of one hundred miles a day, we would fain have gone into the Juba or Webbe River, the mouth of which is only 15 minutes south of the line, but we were too shorthanded.  We passed up to about ten degrees north of the Equator, and then steamed out from the coast.  Here Maury’s wind chart showed that the calm-belt had long been passed, but we were in it still; and, instead of a current carrying us north, we had a contrary current which bore us every day four miles to the south.  We steamed as long as we dared, knowing as we did that we must use the engines on the coast of India.