These latitudes are also very often visited by fearful hurricanes, called “typhoons.” On the 18th of June we experienced the “tail-end” of one, as seamen call it. As we had received warning from the barometer, sail was taken in, and every thing secured in a substantial manner. The violence of the wind seemed to sweep every thing before it, forcing the old ship almost on her beam ends. The sea appeared like moving mountains; occasionally it would dash against her sides, giving her a shock that would cause her to tremble in every part. The heavy and labored rolling of the ship—the creaking of the timbers—the wind shrieking through the rigging—clouds of spray flying with almost the rapidity of lightning—clashing of the backstays—dashing of the waves, intermingled with the hoarse shouting of the sailors, made night hideous, and rendered the scene altogether indescribable. All longed for morning, and when daylight appeared a most awful yet grand sight presented itself. The gale was still howling in all its fury; a lull for a few moments would ensue, then heavy and sudden blasts would follow in quick succession, striking the ship with such force as to make every plank in her shake and tremble. She would plunge headlong into an immense abyss, and then rise rapidly to the top of a mountain wave, showing a fearful chasm on either side, which threatened to ingulf her and finish the scene. Every thing conspired to render our situation an awful one; and yet it was a grand, glorious sight. At noon the gale broke, and its fury soon abated, leaving us once more with pleasant weather. We recollect reading, during our wanderings, in a newspaper which we procured from the _States_, in some ship, a letter written by some European tourist, in which he complained sadly of the “monotony of a voyage across the Atlantic,” which occupied _ten long weary_ days. We thought, at the time, we would like very much to have the writer take _one cruise_ in a whaler of seven or eight months, where he would see nothing but blue water for six of those months. We hardly think he would complain of the “monotony of a voyage across the Atlantic” again. We were now cruising where, day after day, week after week, nothing but blue water was visible around us; the same dull round of duties; not even a brother whaleman hove in sight with whom we could enjoy a friendly _gam_. To add to all this, we could see no whales; the captain and all hands were getting discouraged, and feared we should have to leave the ground in September with but little more oil than when we came upon it. At last the captain appeared to wake up, and offered a bounty of twenty dollars to the man who should first raise a whale.