In a few hours we had threaded the Straits of Singapore, and were on the China Sea facing the monsoon. For two days it was not as rough as we had expected it would be; but after that, the wind increased to such a degree of violence that it became necessary to take down our top-masts. Still our vessel rode the waves like a duck, and notwithstanding both wind and current were against us, she labored so little in the sea that our feeling of security became proportionably stronger, and we felt both hopeful and confident. When in about the ninth degree of north latitude, we passed the Condore Islands. One of the largest of this group belongs to the French, who have a small colony on the island; and on the western side there is a very good bay, where a man-of-war was lying at anchor for the protection of the little settlement. The French Government have selected the island for a coal depot, although the English formerly held possession of it, and some forty years ago had a garrison stationed there. This, however, was finally destroyed by the Malays, who fell upon it and put the soldiers to the sword. On the night of the 17th of January the stiff breeze which had been blowing ever since we left Singapore culminated into a fearful gale, and the next day (Saturday) was one full of anxiety to all on board. It was not deemed advisable to apply more steam-power to the machinery, and the force against us was so tremendous that for twenty-four hours,--during which time the gale seemed to do its worst,--the same amount of steam which had usually propelled us at the rate of two hundred miles per day, advanced us only at the rate of ninety-three miles. The sky assumed the dull, metallic blue shade which usually characterizes it at sea during a fierce gale of wind, and our vessel was in some danger from the short and heavy waves that lashed her sides most furiously. Being unwilling to remain below we sought a dry place on the quarter-deck, where, facing the stern, we quietly watched the storm. There was little conversation; but once during the day, our friend, Mr. S----, coming from the bow of the ship,--the scene at which point was too much for our weak courage to face,--sat down near us, and for some time cruelly whistled the air of “Home, sweet home!” while he kept time with his fingers upon the woodwork of one of the skylights on the quarter-deck. I could not trust myself to say a word by way of remonstrance, knowing that his thoughts were busy with the wife and little ones he had left in his own happy home; but was glad when he ceased, and hope never again to hear that sweet melody under the pressure of such painful apprehensions. Thanks to a kind Providence, the wind fell at about midnight of Saturday; and on Sunday morning--having still one of our missionary clergymen on board--we assembled as usual for religious services, and gratefully rendered thanks for our merciful preservation.