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Sunday, Nov. 23, 6 A.M. Heavy squall. Carried away
mizzen [1] top gallant sail, main royal, top gallant and lower
top sails and main top gallant stay sail. Fore top gal. upper and lower
topsails and flying jib. Andrew, George, and Nicholas furling
fore topgal. sail, mast in danger, scratching match
for the main deck. Comical figure cut by Long Peter
with his sore heel, bare feet and down trodden fingers
half way up the fore rigging. Hard days work clearing
away the wreck and bending new sails [2]. Damage all done
in the first ten minutes. Mr. Kent why don’t you wear
spectacles in squally weather? Thursday Nov. 27.
Fine. What do the good people at home this Thanksgiving [3]
day? I rip old canvas, cut my fingers, eat ‘duff,’
and am thankful we are in the longitude of Madagascar.
Wednesday, Dec. 3rd, 2 P.M. Have just tacked ship about 2 miles
off the southeast coast of Africa. Sighted land this morning.
the southeast point forming Algoa bay [4]. Coast background
of rather low hills half wooded, half clear, with what seem
long lines of fence or hedge patching the ground off in European fashion.
Then falling away to the sea, is a drifting desert of ‘Afric's
coral sands (new version of Greenland’s icy mountains!) with a few trees struggling through. A bark +
brig in company who like us have Royal topgal. sails furled
and a stiff breeze on. “Let go your topsail halyards!” shouts the
mate “’Bout ship” [5] again.