44, SWABEY DIARY. 
barked, sprang a leak at sea before we put back to Falmouth, which 
detained us from sailing once before when the wind was fair. j 
10th August.—To-day we were obliged to breakfast on deck, holding 
fast by the ropes, and nothing would stand on the table at dinner. 
Newland having been in bed all day, we attempted to dine in the cabin. 
The first ceremony was that the whole dinner, with the two servants 
and myself, went bodily to leeward on the floor. I kept fast hold of a 
chicken by the leg, and we fell-to without knives and forks! Newland 
all the time in his cot. I think I have not laughed so much since I 
left Christchurch. Being at sea in such weather is to some people 
perfect misery, but a little difficulty is always to me more seasonable 
than a life of ease, unless I can choose how to pass it. Every soul was 
desperately sick, except ourselves and Sutton!—so much so, that Bur- 
goo was not cooked, the men had not stomach to eat it. We waived 
tea this evening, not because we were not hungry, but because the 
kettle got upset in the caboose and put the fire out. . . . . 
11th August.—The night passed in rolling and pitching in a violent 
manner, in the morning the wind was more moderate, and towards 
evening became almost calm, so we began to doubt the quickness of 
our passage, with the expectation of which we had hitherto consoled 
ourselves. A brig, one of the convoy, had her main-top-gallant-mast 
carried away this morning. . ... . 0 
I2th August.—A dead calm, which is not the pleasantest state of 
weather for impatient people. In the evening, being near the Trusty, 
rowed to her in the boat and drank tea: found even that bold cam- 
paigner, the Doctor, had been sick. Whilst we were there we saw large 
shoals of a small sort of fish jump, or rather fly, out of the water, pur- 
sued by some larger species. We took them, from the length of their 
erial excursions, to be flying-fish, but the sailors, though mclined to 
think the same, called them ‘‘skipjack.” I should not have doubted 
their being flying-fish, but could perceive no wings. NF Fe se 
sth August.—Lay in all the dullness of a calm, not motionless, but 
without wind. Rowed in the evening to “S.K.” and drank tea, and in 
the evening took a lesson in surgery, in consequence of young Lyon 
putting out his shoulder in getting up the rigging; fortunately the 
Dominique was near, and a surgeon was procured without much diffi- 
culty. 
In the morning read many of Lord Chesterfield’s letters, apropos of 
which I have only to remark that I am glad my passion for fashionable 
life, as a pursuit at least, is over, and I am thankful that so much pains 
was never taken to make me substitute the finesse of a courtier for the 
more honourable feelings of the heart. 
14h August.—Last night a favourable breeze sprang up and we 
made considerable progress, and so on through the day. We saw at 
some distance a grampus, but not near enough to give any idea what 
sort of a gentleman he was. 
1 His servant, 
