adieu to Rio, where we have spent so many happy days, and to our
friends on board H.M.S. 'Volage' and 'Ready,' with whom we
interchanged salutes in passing. It was a dull wet morning, and we
could not see much of the beauties we were leaving behind us. The peak
of Tijuca and the summit of the Corcovado were scarcely visible, and
the Sugarloaf and Gavia looked cold and grey in the early mist. It was
not long before we were rolling on the bar, and then tumbling about in
very uncomfortable fashion in the rough sea outside. One by one we all
disappeared below, where most of us remained during the greater part
of the day. As for me, I went to bed for good at six o'clock in the
evening, but was called up again at ten, to see some large bonitos
playing about the bows of the yacht. It was really worth the trouble
of getting up and climbing quite into the bows of the vessel to watch
them, as they gambolled and frisked about, brightly illumined by the
phosphorescence of the water, now swimming together steadily in pairs
or fours, now starting in sudden pursuit of one of their number, who
would make an independent rush forward in advance of his companions.

_Saturday, September 9th_.--The last three days have been showery,
with squalls which have freshened to a gale, and we are now scudding
along, under all storm canvas, followed by crowds of cape-pigeons and
cape-hens, and a few albatrosses. Towards this evening, however, the
wind fell light, and we got up steam, in order to be prepared for any
emergency, as a calm is frequently succeeded on this coast by a
_pampero_, and we are now approaching a lee shore.

_Sunday, September 10th_.--Tom has been on deck nearly all night. The
shore is very low and difficult to distinguish, and the lights are
badly kept. If the lighthouse-keeper happens to have plenty of oil,
and is not out shooting or fishing, he lights his lamp; otherwise, he