Saturday, 1st November.—Lat. 31° 12′ N., Long. 36° W. Distance 56 miles. During Friday evening, about 8 o’clock, the wind being still very light, we passed to windward of the unfortunate _James Baines_; so closely that we could hear the people on board cheering, and most vociferously did some of our passengers reply, with the addition of a profuse supply of chaff: such as amiable offers to take them in tow, a most commendable solicitude as to their stock of “lime juice,” very considerate promises to “say they were coming” on arrival at Liverpool, etc. All night the wind was light and baffling. At 2 a.m. it suddenly chopped round to the N.W., and the ship was put on the port tack. At 4, she was put about again. At 6.30, tacked ship to eastward, light airs and variable. The _James Baines_ about 6 miles to leeward, a little brig on lee bow—which had been in company all Friday, and a barque on lee quarter. At 9, the brig, having put about, stood up towards us, and passing close to leeward, showed the Hambro ensign with private number 350. We once more tacked ship and stood to the northward and westward, the others following our example, and the breeze freshening, we all started on a race. The barque hoisted her ensign and number and proved to be the _Cid_, which we passed on the 29th ultimo. The brig soon after bore away to his “chum” to leeward, and they had a quiet little race to themselves, in which the barque appeared to be the victor. The clipper sisters were now once more pitted against each other: the far famed _Lightning_, with concave lines and breadth of bilge, in our opinion the worthy Donald’s brightest idea, and the champion—the ship of 21 knots’ notoriety—the _James Baines_. In light winds or airs we had crept by him, now, as the breeze freshens, as the white crest appears on the short toppling sea, as we lift and dive to the heavy northerly roll and all favours the long powerful ship. What do we behold? The little brig and barque going astern, of course. Aye, but what else do we see? Oh, ye Liverpool owners! _et tu_, Donald, who thought to improve on the _Lightning_; tell it not “on ’Change,” publish it not in the streets of Liverpool. What do we see? Hull down, courses and topsails below the horizon at 2 p.m., five hours from the start, the _James Baines_ just discernible from the deck: at the very lowest computation we have beaten her at the rate of 1½ knots per hour. At sundown she is barely visible from the mizen topgallant crosstrees. It was generally supposed on board that her copper must have been much worn and rough or we never could have beaten so rapidly a ship of such noble appearance and well-known sailing qualities. Sunday, 2nd November.—Lat. 32° 57′ N., Long. 37° 37′ W. Distance 134 miles. Another day of light winds, heading us off to N.N.W. still. Evening, a little more wind, ship going about 7 knots.