21st.—Passed St. Michael’s to the westward, of which we had a distant view.
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.