“’Tis past midnight; the Cross begins to bend.”
Saturday, Feb. 21. Our westerly winds still hold; we are braced up sharp, and steering north. But we have had to-day a strong current setting us east, and trying to drive us back again off Cape Horn. We have lost by its force one degree of the westing we had made. If it continues, and the wind remains in its present quarter, we shall be obliged ultimately to tack ship and stand off to the southwest; a gloomy, discouraging result. It is the fate of Agag after congratulating himself on his escape. But He whose steps are on the clouds, and whose pathway is in the mighty deep, will order all things right.
We had to-day, at sunset, a sudden shower. It fell from a cloud travelling east upon an upper current of air, and which carried on its front, as it passed down over the swelling arch of the ocean, a magnificent sun-bow. A moment before all had been cloud, darkness, and storm—
“When overhead this rainbow, bursting through
The scattering clouds, shone, spanning the dark sea,
Resting its bright base on the quivering blue:
And all within its arch appeared to be
Clearer than that without, and its wide hue
Waxed broad and waving like a banner free.
It changed again; a heavenly chameleon,