We did fairly well as to distance sailed in the twenty-four hours, and at noon we were one hundred and seventy-five miles from Sandy Hook. +May 13+ This was a glorious morning, with a fresh breeze from the southward. Last night the wind came whistling along in strong puffs, and we had to stow both sky-sails and royals for it; and when I went on deck at 7.30, quite a hummocky sea was running from the southwest. My wife was exceedingly sea-sick all night long, and clung tenaciously to the theory that she would perish within twenty-four hours. At about ten this morning, though, both wind and sea having gone down somewhat, my wife consented to go on deck, so we arranged chairs on the cabin-house, and she stayed there all day, improving every minute. By supper-time she had a hearty longing for food, and we have no more misgivings as to sea-sickness for the rest of the voyage. I rather like the way in which the second mate goes to work; he appears to be a very fine seaman, and this is perhaps the most desirable and necessary of all the acquirements of a second mate. He has also considerable quiet humor; yesterday afternoon he caught sight of one of the men who had not yet recovered the full use of his faculties, fussing about on the mainyard; and after watching him for a few moments he sung out, “Mainyard there, what the h---- are you gapin’ at! Cast off that yard-arm gasket; d’ye think yer messperized?” After which, he rolled forward, and we could see him chuckling and shaking at his own conceit. Our fresh breeze wafted us across two hundred and twenty miles of the North Atlantic yesterday, and at noon we were in latitude 39° 22′ north; longitude, 65° 8′ west. +May 14+ Another fine day with the same fresh breeze from the southward, and the captain is busy shaking hands with himself on his good offing; remembering the German who turned back and anchored in the Horseshoe, he mutters from time to time, “Oh, I wish I was under Sandy Hook, I don’t think.” We couldn’t carry the sky-sails last night, but they were set this forenoon, and we are now doing fully ten knots. My wife has entirely recovered, and is amusing herself with the three cats on board. One of them is a splendid animal, a pure Maltese, whose companion is a so-called coon cat; both of them belong to the captain. The third beast is the mate’s, an unfortunate, weird, black-and-white alley-cat, tall and lank, and as hideous as a nightmare.