14th.—A heavy gale came on, and blew incessantly with frightful force for two days and nights! How the ship pitched and rolled! she groaned as if all her timbers were being wrenched asunder; this would continue ten minutes, and then came a pause—perfect silence for a few seconds, after which the groaning of the timbers recommenced, and the same dead silence at intervals; it gave me the idea that the vessel beneath me was crazy in every beam, not sea-worthy.
16th.—Foul wind and rain; even that was better than the state of the vessel during the gale, which abated a little this morning. The pitching and rolling, added to the groans of the timbers, allowed of no rest night or day; it was to me a life of great suffering, added to which, the ship was badly provisioned, and the cook a very bad one.
17th.—The captain of the vessel told me he was never out in such a gale before; the first officer asserted the same. His course lay outside Madeira, but the foul wind and heavy sea, in which the captain said the ship could not live, forced him to decide on taking the course within the islands.
18th.—A wild wind and heavy sea, the waves striking the ship, and pouring over her in fearful style; the galley was washed away, the live-stock under the large boat was nearly all destroyed, and seven of the pigs were killed. The deck presented a scene of marvellous confusion; the sailors, attempting to save the live-stock, were thrown down on the deck, and the steward, lying in the water that rushed over it, was holding on to a pig; the animal bit his hand, the steward let go, and the pig was washed overboard by the next roll of the ship. With the vessel in such a state the passengers were left to shift for themselves, and very badly off they were. At dinner-time I crept out to get some food, my ayha having been unable to procure any thing for me during the whole day from the steward; the captain apologised for the dinner on table, on account of the galley having been washed away: it consisted merely of one great cheese, and each person was supplied with a biscuit! Nineteen hungry cadets were there; how the boys ate!—the great cheese quickly disappeared. Every one was in good humour, and glad of biscuit and cheese; but the news of the loss of so much of the live-stock was far from agreeable.
21st.—From the time we quitted Portsmouth until this day I have been miserably ill with mal de mer, added to which, I have scarcely been able to sleep at night, the weather has been so constantly bad; as for the poor creatures below, they must be nearly stifled,—the waves, which are pouring in on the one side of the deck and out on the other, force them to keep the hatches closed.
The wind was strong and against us; in the evening I saw a beautiful meteor on the starboard bow, shooting down the sky. At night I was sitting Hindūstanī fashion on my sofa, playing on the guitar, and singing—
“Du, du, liegst mir im Herzen,
Du, du, liegst mir im Sinn.”
The sea was very heavy, it blew a little hurricane; the wind suddenly changed, and the “Carnatic” was taken aback; how she pitched and rolled! There was an uproar on deck, but I went on with my song,—it was useless to disturb myself for a storm; certainly the time of the music varied as the heavy pitching sent me backwards and forwards on the sofa.
The next morning the chief officer said, “I was astonished last night when the ship was taken aback, I heard you singing as quietly as possible all the time; I did not like it,—it sounded like the spirit of the storm.” This remark put me in mind of Long Tom Coffin, who, hearing a midshipman singing during a heavy gale, requested that the captain would call him from the gun on which he was seated, adding, “For I know, from having followed the seas my natural life, that singing in a gale is sure to bring the wind down upon a vessel the heavier; for He who rules the tempests is displeased that man’s voice shall be heard when He chooses to send His own breath on the water.”