_Monday, November 27th_.--I was on deck at 3.30 a.m. Everybody on
board was more or less excited at the prospect of making land, after
twenty-eight days at sea. It was a delicious morning, with a
favourable breeze, and under steam and sail we progressed at the rate
of from 10 to 11-1/2 knots an hour. Several birds flew on board,
amongst whom were two boobies, who hovered round us and appeared to
examine everything with great curiosity, especially the little
wind-vanes at the extremity of the masts. At last they settled on the
foretopmast, whereupon one of the sailors went up to try and catch
them. They observed his movements closely, and appeared to be
specially interested in his cap; but as he approached, first one and
then the other flew away for a few yards, and then returned to his
former position. At last the man, watching his opportunity, managed to
seize one of them by his legs and bring him down in triumph, despite
flapping wings and pecks from a sharp beak. He was shut up in the
fowl-pen--now, alas, empty of its proper denizens--where we had an
opportunity of examining him before he was killed. He was a fine,
handsome, grey bird, with large blue eyes, and a wild hawk-like look.

At one o'clock we were almost sailing over the spot marked by Findlay
as the situation of Tatakotopoto, or Anonymous Island; but there was
nothing whatever visible in the shape of land, even from the masthead,
where a man was stationed, and from which it was possible to see a
distance of ten or fifteen miles. Tom went up himself several times
and scanned the horizon carefully, but in vain. It is therefore
evident either that the position of the island is incorrectly stated,
or that it has become submerged. I believe that in these seas there
are many islands marked that have no existence, and that several that
do exist are not marked, which renders it necessary to keep a constant
good look-out. What a charming task it would be thoroughly to survey