Saturday, September 28th

Louie's birthday. Hurried on deck about seven o'clock to see a squall come up. The carpenter had previously gone the round of the main deck, warning people to close the scuttles, &c., that I felt sure something peculiar was expected. I went on deck and found the ship lying becalmed, the page 37sails flapping without wind but every one in a bustle. The Captain and Mate both on the poop giving loud and rapid orders—the seamen rushing about. Nothing was to be seen for some time by a landsman's eye, till soon, looking to windward might have been observed a dark line of water rather higher than the level of the surrounding sea, walking quickly up to us. It was seen, and everything made quite snug, and two men placed at the wheel before the squall struck the ship. She lay over, scuppers under at once, and rushed madly through the water, kept before the wind. She was afterwards brought up, lay her course, and we went gaily through the water for about three hours. Heavy rain refreshingly accompanied the squall, and some thunder. The publication of the Cockroach occupied the great part of the morning in editorial conclaves. The weather not so hot, though but little wind. The barque and a brig still in sight but having had the heels of us during the night. We are all much disappointed at seeing so few of the fish and other wonders of the deep which travellers had told us to expect in these latitudes. Not a shark, dolphin or porpoise and only a stray flying fish now and then, to break the monotony of the calm water. At dinner the Cockroach read and much approved of. It was enriched by contributions from nearly every cuddy passenger. The smoking edict dealt very hardly with in the 'original correspondence'. Lat. 11.38. Off the Gulf of Guinea. A homeward bound ship descried by the Captain's eye far to windward.