Wednesday, May 18th.  Lat. 9 54’ N., lon. 113 17’ W. The northeast trades had now left us, and we had the usual variable winds, the ``doldrums,’’ which prevail near the line, together with some rain.  So long as we were in these latitudes, we had but little rest in our watch on deck at night; for, as the winds were light and variable, and we could not lose a breath, we were all the watch bracing the yards, and taking in and making sail, and ``humbugging’’ with our flying kites.  A little puff of wind on the larboard quarter, and then—­ ``larboard fore braces!’’—­ and studding-sail booms were rigged out, studding-sails set alow and aloft, the yards trimmed, and jibs and spanker in; when it would come as calm as a duck-pond, the man at the wheel standing with the palm of his hand up, feeling for the wind. ``Keep her off a little!’’ ``All aback forward, sir!’’ cries a man from the forecastle.  Down go the braces again; in come the studding-sails, all in a mess, which half an hour won’t set right; yards braced sharp up, and she’s on the starboard tack, close-hauled.  The studding-sails must now be cleared away, and set up in the tops and on the booms, and the gear cut off and made fast.  By the time this is done, and you are looking out for a soft plank for a nap,—­ ``Lay aft here, and square in the head yards!’’ and the studding-sails are all set again on the starboard side.  So it goes until it is eight bells,—­ call the watch,—­ heave the log,—­ relieve the wheel, and go below the larboard watch.

Sunday, May 22d.  Lat. 5 14’ N., lon. 166 45’ W. We were now a fortnight out, and within five degrees of the line, to which two days of good breeze would take us; but we had, for the most part, what the sailors call ``an Irishman’s hurricane,—­ right up and down.’’ This day it rained nearly all day, and, being Sunday and nothing to do, we stopped up the scuppers and filled the decks with rain water, and, bringing all our clothes on deck, had a grand wash, fore and aft.  When this was through, we stripped to our drawers, and taking pieces of soap, with strips of canvas for towels, we turned-to and soaped, washed, and scrubbed one another down, to get off, as we said, the California grime; for the common wash in salt water, which is all that Jack can get, being on an allowance of fresh, had little efficacy, and was more for taste than utility.  The captain was below all the afternoon, and we had something nearer to Saturnalia than anything we had yet seen; for the mate came into the scuppers, with a couple of boys to scrub him, and got into a contest with them in heaving water.  By unplugging the holes, we let the soapsuds off the decks, and in a short time had a new supply of clear rain water, in which we had a grand rinsing.  It was surprising to see how much soap and fresh water did for the complexions of many of us; how much of what we supposed to be tan and sea-blacking we got rid of.  The next day, the sun rising clear, the ship was covered, fore and aft, with clothes of all sorts, hanging out to dry.