we were off the Cape. This was something to boast of, for it requires
a good deal of skill and watchfulness to steer a vessel close hauled,
in a gale of wind, against a heavy head sea. "Ease her when she pitches,"
is the word; and a little carelessness in letting her ship a heavy sea,
might sweep the decks, or knock masts out of her.

Friday, Nov. 7th. Towards morning the wind went down, and during
the whole forenoon we lay tossing about in a dead calm, and in the
midst of a thick fog. The calms here are unlike those in most parts
of the world, for there is always such a high sea running, and the
periods of calm are so short, that it has no time to go down;
and vessels, being under no command of sails or rudder, lie like
logs upon the water. We were obliged to steady the booms and yards
by guys and braces, and to lash everything well below. We now found
our top hamper of some use, for though it is liable to be carried
away or sprung by the sudden "bringing up" of a vessel when pitching
in a chopping sea, yet it is a great help in steadying a vessel when
rolling in a long swell; giving it more slowness, ease, and regularity
to the motion.

The calm of the morning reminds me of a scene which I forgot to
describe at the time of its occurrence, but which I remember from
its being the first time that I had heard the near breathing of whales.
It was on the night that we passed between the Falkland Islands and
Staten Land. We had the watch from twelve to four, and coming upon deck,
found the little brig lying perfectly still, surrounded by a thick fog,
and the sea as smooth as though oil had been poured upon it; yet now
and then a long, low swell rolling over its surface, slightly lifting
the vessel, but without breaking the glassy smoothness of the water.
We were surrounded far and near by shoals of sluggish whales and