August 22, Monday.—This morning the strange bird at four o’clock leapt again from the side and pulled from the ship with a swift and steady course until out of sight. He kept up his looks amazingly well, and probably the fish and water stuffed down his throat sustained him, and, as if aware that he had exhausted himself before, he never stayed to wash or amuse himself. Fare him well.
August 24, Wednesday.—Fogs, foul wind, good breeze towards evening. Land ahead. Signal made for Mondego, and bear away accordingly.
August 25, Thursday.—A nice breeze at 12 A.M. and very clear. Sandy shore, sand hills, north of Mondego. Lay to for three ships astern.
August 26, Friday.—Breeze blowing right out of harbour. Very angry at the wind; expect not to get in to-day. At half-past nine boat alongside. Onions, pears, apples, apricots, bread. Learn from them that the great fleet is gone to Lisbon, and am then sure that we shall follow. Soon after signal to steer W.S.W.
August 27.—Dead calm, fog, rain, heavy sea.
Foul breeze.
Sad work.
August 31, Wednesday.—At 5 A.M. Rock of Lisbon in sight. Pass through Sir Harry Burrard’s fleet on their way to England. When we come abreast of the Rock, seven o’clock, we soon hear from the agent that the army had made a bad business of the landing, which took place on the Maer, many lives being lost. It was supposed that we were either to land in the same place, should the wind favour, or return to Mondego.
An action had taken place, in which Sir H. Burrard was in person. 5000 French taken, 800 British lost. The British forces said to consist of Sir A. Wellesley’s expedition. Stand in at ten o’clock for the Rock of Lisbon. Come in sight of the Tagus blockading fleet, under command of Sir Charles Cotton. Bring to, then go on the starboard tack, and God knows when or where we shall land. Eurydice leaves us for Halifax.
September 1.—Still tacking for Lisbon. I go on board—the commander of the convoy, Captain Mayne—Primrose brig sloop.