PICO.
22nd.—At 7 A.M. we had a good view of the Island of Pico, with its most remarkable peak above the clouds, and an hour afterwards we had a still clearer glimpse of its bell-shaped summit, which is eleven thousand feet above the sea. The smoke of fires burning on the mountain was visible.
At 10 A.M. we were off Fayal, the white buildings of the town appeared to rise from the dark waters, and the effect was most singular. The lookouts are on the cliff. The distant blue land, of which we caught a sight behind the town, is St. George’s Island. Passing along Fayal, the Convent, which is situated nearly in the centre of the island, was distinctly visible; there appeared to be some painting on the outside walls. The vineyards looked green and luxuriant.
At the end of the Island of Fayal is a curious and insulated rock; the turbulent sea has worn a deep cavern in this rock, through which the light is visible. Above, on the main land, are steep perpendicular cliffs; some are of the colour of burnt terra di sienna, others of a bright deep reddish brown: the shadows were heavy, and a brilliant light was caught upon the cliffs—a tremendous swell from the north-east was dashing in breakers half-way up the lofty cliff. I think I never saw breakers rise so high before—on the horizon was a fog-bank—the cavern bearing east four or five miles. The day was beautiful and most favourable: I was delighted with this passing view of the Western Isles, very much gratified; the air was sharp and cold, the sunshine brilliant; and I believe every one on board enjoyed the scene.
PICO.
Sketched on the Spot by فاني پارکس
23rd.—The Western Isles invisible.
24th.—The day was cold and raw, nearly a calm. At night the sailors sent off a tar-barrel with a fire in it, which went blazing along; a nautical method of celebrating Christmas Eve.
25th.—A cold raw day, with rain and fog. Divine service was performed in the cuddy. The sea almost a calm.
31st.—With a fine wind we are going nine knots off the Lizard, and looking forward to the termination of our voyage; but I cannot quit the vessel without expressing how much we have been satisfied with all the arrangements on board, which reflect great credit on the owners of the ship; and how much the attention of the commanding officer to our wishes and accommodation has removed the annoyances that old Indians necessarily must experience during a sea voyage: the vessel is well manned, her provisions are excellent and abundant, every attention is shown to the passengers, and the “Essex” is a good ship.
1846, Jan. 1st.—At 6 P.M., off Portland Race, it was bitterly cold, and I began to speculate if it were possible to exist in England.
2nd.—Off Folkstone, at 2 P.M.—I quitted the “Essex” in a Deal boat, over which the waves danced, and the wind was bitterly cold; landed at Folkstone in about four hours, half starved, cold, and hungry, and took refuge at the Pavilion Hotel, where a good dinner and the luxuries of native oysters and fresh butter made us forget all the ills that flesh is heir to.
3rd.—Started per train at 7 A.M., and found ourselves once more in London.