Saturday, December 27th.—The barometer has risen again, and the weather still continues fine. Ballasting the barque, and overhauling and setting up our topmast and lower rigging, and caulking decks. Took a stroll in the north island towards sunset. It is dull recreation after the novelty has worn off, with the somewhat tough walking through the sand, and the smell and filth of the clouds of gannet.
Sunday, December 28th.—Weather cloudy, with the wind from the N.E. At 8.30 descried a schooner from aloft in the N.W., the first sail we have seen, and quite an unexpected sight at this season of the year. After we had armed and manned the cutter, to board the sail when it should heave in sight from the deck, it was ascertained that the look out had been deceived, and that the supposed sail was probably a cloud in the horizon, it having suddenly disappeared.
At 11 A.M. mustered the crew and inspected the ship. A quiet Sabbath. Strolled on the island towards sunset, with the gannets for companions, the surf for music, and the heavy sand for a promenade. The weather cleared at nightfall, with the breeze fresh from the N.N.E. Some of the men are getting tired of their hard service; the chief boatswain's-mate having applied to return to England in the barque. Refused him permission, of course. Constant cruising, vigilance against being surprised by the enemy, salt provisions, and a deprivation of the pleasures of port, so dear to the heart of a seaman, are probably what most of them did not expect. A tight rein and plenty of work will cure the evil.
Monday, December 29th.—Weather clear and fine. At daylight hauled the barque alongside, and commenced coaling. Another seaman got drunk to-day, and seized his bag to go on board the barque to return to England. Confined him in double irons. Many of my fellows no doubt thought they were shipping in a sort of privateer, where they would have a jolly good time and plenty of license. They have been wofully disappointed, for I have jerked them down with a strong hand, and now have a well-disciplined ship of war, punishment invariably follows immediately on the heels of the offence. It has taken me three or four months to accomplish this, but when it is considered that my little kingdom consisted of one hundred and ten of the most reckless from the groggeries of Liverpool, this is not much.
Tuesday, December 30th.—The weather still continues remarkably fine, with a moderate breeze from the E.S.E. We finished coaling to-day, and hauled the barque off in the afternoon. Getting ready generally for our dash at the enemy's coasts; or rather, at the enemy on our own coasts, of which he is in possession. A brig hove in sight to-day to the S. and E., approaching the islands on the starboard tack, until she became visible from the bridge, and then tacking—probably a Frenchman, making way from Vera Cruz to the eastward on the banks. Took my usual afternoon stroll on shore. About nightfall, the sky assumes a peculiarly lurid aspect, becoming dark overhead, whilst the western horizon is lighted up with the rays of the setting sun, although there is not a cloud visible. One witnessing such a scene elsewhere would fancy himself on the eve of a storm; I attribute it to the reflection from the green waters of the bank. We have cleared away all the old eggs from the gannets' nests, and these prolific layers are now supplying us with fresh. Of fish we can catch none, except by trolling. We have no better success with our turtle nets.
Wednesday, December 31st.—The weather has been good all day, though we have had a heavy surf on all the reefs, indicating that there is a gale somewhere in our vicinity—probably a norther, along the Mexican coast to the west of us. The wind is at N.N.E. and moderate, and the barometer has been rising all day, though it has not been a tenth below 30.21; it is now (4 P.M.) 30.15, so we shall probably not feel the gale here.
Thursday, January 1st.—The first day of the new year. What will it bring forth? The Almighty for a wise purpose hides future events from the eyes of mortals, and all we can do is to perform well our parts, and trust the rest to His guidance. Success, as a general rule, attends him who is vigilant and active. It is useful to look back on the first day of the new year and see how we have spent the past; what errors we have committed, and of what faults we have been guilty, that we may in the future avoid the one and reform the other.
Although the wind blew pretty fresh during the past night, we did not feel the gale in any force; and to-day it has moderated, and the weather become fine again. Still caulking and painting. The former seems to be an interminable job with our small gang of caulkers. In the afternoon a brig approached the island, near enough to be seen, hull up, from the deck. She was beating up the bank to the eastward probably from Vera Cruz.
Friday, January 2nd.—The wind has been fresh all day from the eastward, bringing in some sea, and as we have been riding across the tide, the ship has had some motion. Caulking and painting, tarring down and squaring ratlines, &c. Commenced condensing water to supply the barque for her return voyage to England. I must get to sea on Tuesday, though I fear we shall not have finished caulking; but Banks' expedition must be assembling off Galveston, and time is of importance to us if we would strike a blow at it before it is all landed. My men will rebel a little yet. I was obliged to-day to trice one of them up for a little insolent behaviour.
Saturday, January 3d.—A gale opened after all from the S.E., which I had hoped to escape, so rare is it to have blows from this quarter at this season of the year. We have veered to forty-five fathoms on each chain, and are in six fathoms water astern (there being nine where the anchors are), and are tailing directly on the surf, with a few hundred feet only between us and it, which of course makes me feel a little solicitude. We are open to the S.E. winds, though these blow over the bank from landwards. Still the water is deep and the land distant, and a considerable sea comes in. I have ordered the fires to be lighted under another boiler to guard against accidents. The Arcas are a dirty little anchorage for large ships, being but an open roadstead, affording good shelter only from the north. There is a very small basin between the two reefs, running off from the northern island, fit for very small vessels, where they could be made secure against northerly and southerly winds; but everywhere they would be exposed more or less to wind from the westward.