ng able to make way, but also without losing any. Meanwhile,
_Froehlich!_ we become freed from the nausea and disgust of the
sea-sickness and are chirruping merrily. Spend the daylight chiefly on
deck, where the sailors are trained in exercising the great guns on a
new sort of carriage called, from the inventor, Marshall's, which seems
ingenious.

_November_ 6.--No progress to-day; the ship begins to lay her course but
makes no great way. Appetite of the passengers excellent, which we amuse
at the expense of the sea stock. Cold beef and biscuit. I feel myself
very helpless on board, but everybody is ready to assist me.

_November_ 7.--The wind still holds fair, though far from blowing
steadily, but by fits and variably. No object to look at--

"One wide water all around us,
All above us one 'grey' sky."[483]

There are neither birds in the air, fish in the sea, nor objects on face
of the waters. It is odd that though once so great a smoker I now never
think on a cigar; so much the better.

_November_ 8.--As we begin to get southward we feel a milder and more
pleasing temperature, and the wind becomes decidedly favourable when we
have nearly traversed the famous Bay of Biscay. We now get into a sort
of trade wind blowing from the East.

_November_ 9.--This morning run seventy miles from twelve at night. This
is something like going. Till now, bating the rolling and pitching, we
lay

"... as idle as a painted ship
Upon a painted ocean."

_November_ 10.--Wind changes and is both mild and favourable. We pass
Cape Ortegal, see a wild cluster of skerries or naked rocks called
Berlingas rising out of the sea like M'Leod's Maidens off the Isle of
Skye.

_November_ 11.--Wind still more moderate and fair, yet it is about
eleven knots an hour. We pass Oporto and Lisbon in the night. See the
coast of Portugal: a bare wild country, with here and there a church or
convent. If it keeps fair this evening we [make] Gibraltar, which would
be very desirable. Our sailors have been exercised at a species of sword
exercise, which recalls many recollections.

_November_ 12.--The favourable wind gets back to its quarters in the
south-west, and becomes what the Italians call the Sirocco, abominated
for its debilitating qualities. I cannot say I feel them, but I dreamt
dreary dreams all night, which are probably to be imputed to the
Sirocco. After all, it is not an uncomfortable wind to a Caledonian wild
and stern.