The wind has increased, with heavier seas. During the day the engines were stopped for adjustment. Kerr says the crank shaft is out of alignment, and expects further trouble. This happening so early in the voyage does not promise well for the trip, for, as the Boss says, we are already late and cannot afford much time in port. _September 30th._ A moderate gale blowing from the S.W. We made no headway into it, and the Boss decided to heave to with the engines at slow speed. This has given us an idea of the _Quest’s_ behaviour in bad weather. The Boss is pleased with her sea-going qualities, for in spite of fairly heavy seas she has remained dry, taking aboard very little water.[2] She has a lively and very unpleasant motion, which has induced qualms of sea-sickness in many of the “land lubbers.” Bee Mason and young Mooney are _hors de combat_. They are both plucky. The Scout makes no complaint, but it is obvious that life to him just now is a terrible misery. He has tried hard to carry on his work. We wish we could do something for him, but there is little comfort on the ship. _October 2nd._ Head winds have continued to blow, against which we have made little headway. The engines have developed a nasty knock which is appreciable to all on the ship. Kerr insists that an overhaul is necessary, and Sir Ernest has decided to make for Lisbon. We accordingly headed up for “The Burlings,” and picked up the light about 6 P.M. On October 3rd Kerr had to reduce the pressure of steam in the cylinders, as we were now proceeding slowly along the coast of Portugal in the direction of Cape Roca. The coast-line is very picturesque, dotted all along with old castles and pretty little windmills. We plugged slowly on, passed by many steamers which signalled us “A pleasant voyage,” to which we were kept busy answering “Thank you.” One of the beautiful modern P. & O. liners, coming rapidly up from behind, altered course to pass close to us, and we could not help envying her speed and comfort as, making nothing of the short steep seas in which we were rolling and pitching in the liveliest manner, she rapidly drew out of sight ahead. Just before nightfall we reached Cascaes, at the mouth of the Tagus, where the pilot came aboard, but decided not to proceed till daybreak. We lay at anchor for some hours, and I rarely remember a more uncomfortable period than we spent here, jerking at the cable with a short steep roll that made one positively giddy. It was more than the Portuguese pilot could stand, for he moved us farther up the river into shelter, enabling us to get the first comfortable sleep since leaving the Scilly Islands. We were taken by tug up the fast-running Tagus to Lisbon in the early morning, and later the _Quest_ went into dock.