“Wind south. Last night I had the first watch. Turned out this morning at seven bells. Breakfasted on a roll and some jelly. Wind blowing pretty hard at south. Struck lower yards and top-gallant masts. After breakfast read one or two tales of the Genii. Dressed for muster, and at six bells beat to divisions. I asked leave to go on shore to dine with Capt. O’Hara, but was refused. So I dined upon the Old thing—salt junk and dough. The captain landed in the pinnace. Employed myself most of the afternoon in reading Plutarch’s Lives. Had coffee at four o’clock. Blowing harder than ever, and raining very much. Read the Bible till six; then went on deck. At nine went to bed. Turned out at four in the morning. “Monday, 23d April.—Made the signal for sailing. At noon, the same old dinner—salt horse! The two pilots, Jacob and Jamie, came on board. Employed getting in the Admiral’s stock.” These two names, Jacob and Jamie, will recall to people who knew Bermuda in those days many an association connected with that interesting island. They were two negroes, pilots to the men-of-war, who, in turn, took the ships out and in. Their wives, no less black and polished than themselves, were the chief laundresses of our fleet; while at their cedar-built houses on shore, we often procured such indifferent meals as the narrow means of the place allowed. I only remember that our dinner, nine times in ten, consisted of ham and eggs. I forget whether or not these men were slaves; I think not: they were, at all events, extremely good-natured fellows, and always very kind and obliging to the midshipmen, particularly to those who busied themselves in making collections of shells and corallines, the staple curiosities of the spot. It is needless to quote any more from the exact words of this matter-of-fact journal. I find it recorded, however, that next morning a boat came to us from the Boston, a frigate lying near the Leander. The captain of that ship was then, and is now, one of my kindest and steadiest friends. And right well, indeed, did he know how to confer a favour at the fitting season. The boat contained one of the most acceptable presents, I will answer for it, that ever was made to mortal—it was truly manna to starved people—being no less than a famous fat goose, a huge leg of pork, and a bag of potatoes! Such a present at any other time and place would have been ludicrous; but at Bermuda, where we had been starving and growling for many months without a fresh meal—it was to us hungry, salt-fed boys, the ‘summum bonum’ of human happiness.