23rd.—A quiet day, a pleasant evening, and the first tranquil night since I have been on board in which I have been able to get the refreshment of a sound sleep; we are now within the shelter of the islands.
24th.—Another quiet day, a beautiful evening, and a quiet night;—what a luxury! A glorious sunset: the purple clouds stood up from the deep blue ocean like a wall, above were two brilliant streaks of vivid green, other streaks of crimson hue were surrounded by purple clouds, and above all a sky of mottled deep ultramarine blue clouds, of which the edges were of burnished molten gold, like the brilliant dyes on the back of the mackarel. A glorious sunset after such wild gales and drenching rains.
25th.—A nautilus and a tortoise seen. Another sunset, less wild than that of the evening before, but the finale was brilliant. The clouds drew back, and the sun—a perfect world of fire—sank in burning brilliancy into the deep blue sea, which did not appear to catch one tint from its vivid beams, but remained a deep, cold, clear blue, whilst every cloud around caught and returned the rays. In these latitudes, at sea, a sunset is indeed a glorious sight: and what, after the evening shades have fallen around, and the deck is quiet and nearly forsaken, can be more calm and refreshing than the star-light night, and the cool and delightful breeze?—luxurious hours of dreamy contemplation.
26th.—At 6 A.M. I saw the Peak of Teneriffe: when the sun came out in power the Peak became beautiful,—its snowy head ridged with furrows, and glistening like silver in the sun; deep shadows were over the island, the shape could be traced, but with an uncertain effect that gave it the appearance of fairy-land; while, above the shadows, contrasted with and relieved by the unclouded blue sky, the silvery Peak was a beautiful object. The sea was almost perfectly calm, and a number of the nautilus were around us.
27th.—A beautiful day, almost a calm,—Teneriffe and Palma appear to advantage. Several Portuguese men-of-war near the ship.
March 1st.—The trade-wind fine and steady, making us all happy and contented: thermometer 67°,—a most agreeable temperature. My cot came down by the run; the double-jointed brass screws on which it hung, having had too much work from the pitching and rolling of the vessel, broke short off; the old-fashioned common iron screws are far better, give less motion than the double-jointed brass ones, and will not break.
4th.—Lat. N. 17° 57′, long. W. 20° 47′.
“The moon is up, but yet it is not night,—
Sunset divides the sky with her.”
A magnificent scene was presented when the sun had disappeared below the horizon; a most brilliant rose tint overspread both sea and sky; clouds of the deepest neutral tint were finely contrasted with others of burning crimson, and two vivid streaks of the brightest green mixed with the warm glow of sunset. While the waves were still bright with the rose tints, and two crimson clouds still lingered amidst those of the darkest hue, the crescent moon arose with the old moon in her arms, and a beautiful lunar bow was brightly visible, silver-tinted like the moon. The captain of the ship remarked it was an uncommon and curious circumstance; the bow remained visible some time. The horizon darkened, meteoric lights played around the ship, illuminating the waves with flashes of silver light, and sparkling stars, the glow-worms of the deep. The trade-wind was blowing, the night was fresh and pure, and most agreeable.