Speaking of Cape Horn, I wonder when we’re going to see that famous rock? At this present rate we would be several months in beating down the coast; if we were only as far south now as the Abrolhos Islands, we could begin to keep off a little, that being about the first point at which ships bound to the westward begin to think of bearing away. The old mate told us the other day that coming to the eastward towards New York this last time, they unbent the foresail and made some repairs to it on the main-deck with Cape Horn in sight! This means that there was not enough sea there at the time to wet the decks, for a sail is never stretched there if there is any probability of water coming aboard. The sea has now returned to its usual Prussian blue, for, being on soundings yesterday afternoon, it changed to a most beautiful, pale, transparent green, owing to the white, sandy bottom over which we sailed, only twenty fathoms away; our least distance from the land having been about eight miles. Latitude, 7° 57′ south; longitude, 32° 47′ west. +June 14+ Though the Trades are still from the south-southeast, we have done very well, as an offing of one hundred and thirty miles has enabled us to hold on to the port tack all day; and as the coast-line south of Maceió trends slightly to the westward, we may be able to go free of the land until we reach the Abrolhoses, for which it will no doubt be necessary for us to make a slight hitch. We were more than seven days in making nine degrees of latitude; for, a week ago last night, we passed the St. Paul’s Rocks fifty-five miles north of the line, and yesterday we had not quite reached the eighth parallel. Can the reader duplicate this tortoise-like progression in the southeast trade-wind? It is more like the Doldrums in spite of a spanking breeze. Sometimes when there is a lull in the wind the deep voice of Captain Scruggs will be heard, “Loose the main-royal”; but five minutes later will come the order, “Let go the main-royal-halliards; and you can put the gaskets on, Mr. Rarx, we won’t want it any more.” This word “loose” is almost invariably used at sea, and you never hear “Set the mizzen-t’-gallant-s’l” or “Hoist the fore-sky-s’l”; they are always “loosed.” At dinner to-day the skipper said, “I’ll bet they’ve been having trouble off the river Plate lately.” “Why?” said I. “Don’t you see this swell a-heavin’ up?” he replied; “they’ve been having a southerly buster down there.” Now, that portion of the South Atlantic in the vicinity of that vast estuary, the Rio de la Plata, is subject to terrific gales of wind known as pamperos, because they blow off the pampas or plains of the Argentine; but the skipper, having lived long on the coast of Australia, where the hardest gales are called southerly busters, usually gives that name to the pampero.