Tornado—“How many days are you out?”
Lightning—“Forty-seven.”
At which answer Tornado seemed surprised and although we had previously shown our number, again asked:—“What ship is that?”
We answered:—
Lightning—“How many days are you out?”
Tornado—“Fifty-six.”
We then exchanged the courtesy of hoisting and dipping ensigns.
It was then about 4 o’clock, and for nearly an hour there was nothing but “box-hauling” the yards, when suddenly Jonathan caught a breeze and crept up alongside, and seemed very much inclined to pass us. All possible sail was set and trimmed most carefully but still Tornado gained, and all was anxiety and excitement. At last the strength of the breeze came to us, and for a few minutes there was a most exciting race, some even feared that we were going to be beaten; but the Lightning showed her wonted superiority, our antagonist dropped astern, and a hearty cheer from us announced our victory. The wind then fell light again, and twice freshened and caused the same capital match; but the Tornado, though evidently a first-rate sailer—being one of the early Californian clippers—could not manage us; and, as the night closed in, and the breeze became more steady, we gradually bid him good-bye.
Wednesday, 15th October.—Lat. 9° 27′ N., long. 27° 45′ W. Distance 77 miles. Our American friend kept in sight until sunset.
16th-19th October.—N.E. trades.