| ⚪ | Sunday, 18th | I have come to the conclusion that Sunday is a farce, at least at sea. I never spent such a Sunday before. 8 a.m. Heavy gale and high sea. Tried to clew up main topgallantsail, but all the gear carried away and we had to set it again. 12 (noon) clewed up topgallant with hauling lines, and made it fast. Then all the afternoon our watch was on the yard reeving off new gear, Curious these things always happen on a Sunday. 4 p.m. Made the fore topsail fast. Blowing fearfully strong. At half past six with a fearful roar the main topsail sheet carried away. “All hands on deck” was immediately shouted out, and then “lay aloft and make it fast”. I had the pleasure of having the worst place of the lot, being on the weather yard-arm, I expect every second either to be knocked off the yard with the sail, or the whole concern, mast and yard, to go over the side. All this time the decks were full of water. The gale increased and increased all night and ended up in a N. Wester. The ship was rolling her sides under the whole night. The decks full of water also. We were running before the gale and dared not “heave to”. Everything was adrift in our houae, and the water was over a foot deep, and all the time gushing through the windows. At midnight an enormous sea washed in the galley, and a part of the deck house. All the cook's pots and pans were floating all over the ship, and were at last gathered up and shoved into the pig-pen. Most of them wore a very worried look. All the hands slept in the sail locker, as the house was expected to go with every sea. Only one life was lost, I am glad to say, and that was the cat. No one knows how he died, only that it was found floating about the sail maker's house dead. It had a fine night to die. Altogether we had a delightful Sunday evening. | |
| Monday, 19th | The ship is a proper wreck now. Galley washed in, hen coop smashed to pieces, one of the iron ports gone, and all the after skids, boats, etc. adrift. The hen coop was about 14 feet above the deck, so you can imagine what like it was down there. We are now only 900 miles from the channel. | ||
| Tuesday, 20th | Repairing ship all day. One of our topmast backstays carried away, and we had a duice of a job with it. The ship is breaking up, and the sooner we get out of her the better. At four this morning the second mate and one of the men had an exciting fight. Both men more asleep than awake. Such things are common. | ||
| Wednesday, 21st | Strong South westerly wind, which is as usual accompanied with rain and fog. We haven't seen the sun, or in fact seen a break in the sky, for the last five days. The ship is sailing on “dead reckoning”, a most uncertain patent. So no one is very sure where we are. | ||
| Thursday, 22nd | Same horrible weather, only this afternoon it has increased to a gale and we are once again under topsails. There is a very nasty sea running, which is continually breaking over us in huge volums. There is about 300 miles of ocean here known to sailors as the “Devil's Hole” which is as bad, if not worse, than the famous Bay of Biscay. We are now in that part of the Atlantic, and I'll be jolly glad when we get into the channel. | ||
| ⚪ | Friday, 23rd | Ship running splendidly, but is still rolling very heavily. Another topmast backstay carried away, or rather the iron band on the “deadeyes”. The ship is now beginning to break up, and before long will collapse all together. Those who make another voyage in her will have plenty work repairing breakages, etc. We are now 411 miles from the Channel. | |
| Saturday, 24th Lat 49°4’N Long 12°35’W |
Passing some ships, and others passing us. Still the old Princess is pegging on in good style. The wind is now on the quarter and the sea is not so high. This is the first day in the last ten that the ship has not been rolling, and also the first day the decks have not been full of water. Ve have made a splendid weeks run from the Azores. | ||
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