Nothing of any interest transpired for a month from this time, except occasionally lowering for whales and the capture of two, until Wednesday, December 3d, when we again spoke the bark “Belle,” just from Sydney. From them we learned that our carpenter, _alias_ “Chips,” who, it will be recollected, deserted at Pitt’s Island, and left in the “Belle,” had been arrested in Sydney for stealing a quadrant and sextant from a ship there, and thrown into prison. We were now to lose one of our _best_ men, though a Kanaka. For some time past it was evident that Friday had been growing homesick, and he often told us, “I like go see my land.” The captain, being willing to gratify him, and it being uncertain when we should again visit his “land,” consented to his taking passage in the “Belle,” which vessel was going there immediately. Friday was overjoyed at this prospect; his chest was brought upon deck, ready to be lowered into the other ship’s boat. But now came the parting with his shipmates. This was hard for poor Friday, for all loved him, though he had a dark skin. He had been so kind to all on board—so ever ready and willing to do all in his power to serve others’ interests—so quick to learn, and so grateful for any kindness shown, that all hands, from captain to cook, loved and respected him. Many little presents had been bestowed upon him as tokens of remembrance, and his heart almost failed him as he looked around upon those he was leaving behind; the tears gushed from his eyes; but, summoning resolution to his aid, he sprang into the boat awaiting him, and sadly waving his hand to us, was soon out of sight. We can truly say that we have parted with many white acquaintances with less sorrow than we did with Friday, the Pitt’s Island Kanaka. On Tuesday, December 9th, we spoke the “Bengal,” of New London, an Arctic whaler, who reported quite a number of whalers lost in the Arctic the previous season by the ice. A short time after we spoke the “Lion,” of Providence, Captain Nichols, a brother of the master of the “Phocion,” whom we saw a few days previous. The morning of Saturday, December 20th, broke with very squally, thick weather, and we came very near running down Henderville’s Island, or running well on it. It appeared almost that we were fated to be cast away on this hated place. The “Lion” was on our weather beam, and was running in the same direction. As the squall, which was a severe one, passed off, and the weather became clear, we discovered breakers just ahead. We had “tacked” ship very quick a number of times during the voyage, but never, we venture to say, did the “Emily” go about quicker than then. The “Lion,” being to windward, had more room; she also went about, and we left those parts just as fast as the breeze would drive us.