Good-by, sweet north wind! Farewell, bright, blue skies and balmy weather! We turned out this morning to find the ship ploughing into a short, severe sea, heading south-southeast, with nothing set above the topsails and a strong wind whistling from southwest, or dead ahead. The change came last evening in the second dog-watch; it was hard upon eight o’clock, and the mate was telling me something about the fit of the upper mizzentop-sail, when, looking ahead, he suddenly cried, “By jimminy, look at that cloud; here comes the river Plate,” and ran forward, bawling, “Let go the sky-sail-halliards!” Looking quickly toward the southwest I beheld a very wonderful sight; for, extending from west to east, about twenty degrees above the horizon, was a strange, narrow band of black cloud which came rushing toward us at headlong speed, with a gray bank of mist beneath it extending to the horizon. This mass had apparently risen by the exercise of some magic, for fifteen minutes previously there was not the least indication of it in the sky. Even as we looked, another ribbon of sable cloud formed at an angle of forty-five degrees to the first, and cornucopia-shaped (though not vertical like a tornado), with the big end toward us, came charging down upon us with all our kites aloft. The mate’s yell brought the skipper on deck, who sang out instantly, “Get the sky-sails and royals in as quick as you can, Mr. Goggins. Keep her off there; hard up.” This last to the helmsman; for in an instant our northerly breeze had been nipped off, and the wind was now from the west; therefore, as the yards were squared, there was a great thrashing about of new canvas. Nothing parted, though, and by 8.30 we were pretty well straightened out, but were surprised an hour later to see the wind let go a good deal, while the ship came up to her course again, southwest. But the captain, glancing at a gray mist to windward, muttered, “There’s dirt in that yet”; and sure enough, at five this morning we had our first taste of nasty weather, and breakfasted in a severe squall which played tenpins with the dishes. Once more it eased up before dinner and we set the fore- and mizzentop-gallant-sails; but while the skipper was enjoying his postprandial siesta, the second mate came below and, poking first his head and then his shoulders into the cabin in that peculiarly cautious manner of mates desiring to speak to the old man, aroused him with, “There’s too much wind coming for the t’-ga’nt-s’ls, sir”; to which the captain answered, “All right; tie ’em up,” jumping on deck, whither we followed him. It is remarkable how quickly sailors rouse themselves from insensibility to alert action; only a moment previously the captain was breathing heavily in a deep sleep, yet no sooner did Mr. Rarx touch him and make the above observation than the answer came instantly, as though the skipper were talking in his sleep.