At night we braced forward and stood out to the open ocean. On the 29th we gammoned the clipper barque Sunlight, of New Bedford, a beautiful craft, twenty-one months from home, with eight hundred and fifty barrels of oil. Her captain, a namesake of the iron-handed protector of England, was described by his crew as being a fiend incarnate--cursing, beating, and abusing every one under his command; giving them scarcely enough to eat. Poor fellows, they were glad to get hard bread, which we, touched by their relation, gave to them: this they secreted on their persons to carry aboard and make a meal of. The account of their sufferings from this monster almost exceeded belief; but as it was the same story from all grades of the members of the ship’s company, and was afterwards corroborated by the crew of another vessel, we were forced to yield credence to the tale. On May 1st, a few minutes prior to sunset, we saw boats and a ship whaling. On nearing the scene of operations we found it to be the ship Abigail, of New Bedford, which proved to be unsuccessful. The succeeding day we again saw her boats whaling. We lowered away our own, but to no purpose. They, however, made an acquisition in the shape of an eighty barrel whale. On the 6th we gammoned the ship Congress; she brought from home a budget of letters for us, but had delivered them over to the James Allen, in October last, supposing that the latter would see us first--they are now lost to us entirely. The Congress, it will be remembered, returned to the States since we have been on this coast, full of oil; and in the sixteen months, during which she has been from home this voyage, she has taken sixteen hundred barrels of oil, or nearly double what we have taken in three years. She is commanded by the person who acted as her mate during the last voyage.