The Lost Gold Rush Journals: Daniel Jenks 1849-1865

ISBN: 978-1-7365299-3-5

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

COPYRIGHT © 2021 Larry Obermesik

All Rights Reserved

Dedication

To Betty Johnson.

Without her tireless effort to preserve the Jenks Journals for posterity, this book could not have been written.

Table of Contents

Author’s Note

Daniel Jenks Gold Rush Journal Volume 1: 1849-1851

Barque Velasco ~ Boston February 11, 1849

Our Crew

Take A Balloon - 3/9

Pico ~ Azores Islands - 3/11

Faial ~ Azores Islands - 3/11

The Consul’s Garden ~ Orto, Faial

Faial Crater

Cape De Verdes Island ~ St. Vincent, Porta Granda - 3/30

Crossed The Equator - 4/11

Drinking Poisoned Water - 6/15

Diego Ramirez Island - 6/17

A Funeral At Sea - 6/18

Goodbye Cape Horn - 6/30

The Glorious Fourth - 7/4

Becalmed Off Talcahuana - 7/6

Talcahuana, Chili ~ South America - 7/12

Concepcion City - 7/13

Crossed The Equator - 8/16

A No Confidence Vote - 9/7

The Doomed Velasco - 9/17

Dos Amigos Hard Ship - 9/17

Square The Yards - 10/2

Long-Nosed Weather Dogs - 10/4

San Francisco Bay, California - 10/7

San Francisco - 10/13

Her Great Bereavement - 10/25

Crowded Star - 10/30

Stockton, California - 11/4

Branch Hotel ~ Stockton City, California - 11/5

Chinese Camp - 11/18

My Birthday ~ Chinese Camp December 2, 1849

Happy Hungry New Year - January 1, 1850

$1 Per Bite ~ Chinese Camp - February 1850

I Must Succeed

Varmint Companions

Taint Thar ~ Chinese Camp - March 1850

White Indians

Swamped ~ Mouth of Sullivan’s Creek - April 1850

Chilean Camp

Humbug Creek, Tuolumne Co. - May 1850

Savage’s Camp or Garrote - June 1850

Meet Judge Lynch

Big Oak Flat ~ Garrote - July 1850

Chief Cyprianna

Prospecting Tuolumne and Merced

Standing Guard

Where White Men Never Tread

Back To Garrote, Poorer

Jacksonville - August 1850

The Burns Affair

Letters From Home

Don’t Insult The Lady

River Company Setbacks

Meet Mrs. Bruin

A Miner’s Sabbath

History Of The Mines ~ Jacksonville - October 1850

Rhode Island Bar ~ Jacksonville - November 1850

Lucky Strike ~ Jacksonville - December 1850

I’m Blessed ~ Jacksonville - January 1, 1851

I’m Less Blessed

Our Daily Murder Bread

Divine Deaths

Duly Elected Desperados

Societal Restraints

Elusive Ditch Piles - February 1851

Savage On Savage

The Two-Year Itch

Kanaka Creek - March 1851

Bible Bowl

Forgotten Victims

The Black Legs

He’s Just Foolin’

Big Baby Business

How Do I Look?

Kanaka Creek - April 1851

Breakin’ Bullies

Texian Renegades

The Bar’ Hunt

Lovely Jacksonville - May 1851

Dollar Buckets - June 1851

The Boling Incident

Clerk Dick’s Rage

Killing Snow

Burglin’ Mardis

Vigilante Justice

Don’t Mess With Sonora’s Marshal

The Vigilance Committee

Life In San Francisco - July 1851

No Hope For Sinister Charlie

Daniel Jenks Gold Rush Journal Volume 2: 1852-1856

Marysville, California - January 1852

Marysville, California - February 1852

Sacramento Valley Flood

Marysville, California – Broken March 1852

California Has Rats!!!

Marysville, California - April 1852

Tanner’s Gauntlet

Off To Oregon – Glorious May 1852

Sacramento Valley - 5/11

Old Settler’s Ranch - 5/12

Private Sanctum

Miserable Hovel - 5/12

Shasta City

The Road To Yreka - 5/16

Gary’s Ranch - 5/17

Martin’s Ranch - 5/18

Yreka - June 1852

Prospecting Salmon River Mountains

Leonard’s House ~ Yreka - July 1852

Rogue River Valley War ~ Yreka - August 1852

The Destitute & Sick - September 1852

The Yreka Fire - October 1852

Callahan’s Ranch - 10/28

Shasta - November 1852

Marysville - 11/3

Take The Stage

Shasta - 11/11

Gary’s Ranch - 11/13

Fouch’s Hacienda ~ Long Gulch - 11/14

The Grand Opening – November 25, 1852

The Grand Closing - December 25, 1852

Trapped, Sick & Starving - January 1853

Feeding On Air

The Dying - February 1853

Blue Flour Train - 2/28

Unfit For Duty - March 1853

Broke, Sick & Alone - April 1853

I’m Cursed - May 1853

Saved By An Englishman - June 1853

Rogue River Valley Indians

Ravaging Rogue River

Hiram Woods’ Ranch - August 1853

Shasta Indian Medicine

The White Wolves

Modoc Indians

‘Attack’ On Woods’ Ranch

2-Cent Diggin’s - September 1853

3/4 Froze In Yreka

Mule Train To Crescent City - October 1853

Waggoner’s Ranch - 10/27

Jacksonville, Oregon - 10/28

Ambush Swamp - 10/29

Smith’s River Mountain - 10/30

Cold Springs House - 10/31

Mule Road To Hardscrabble Creek - 11/3

Unbelievable Redwoods

Crescent City

Back To The Mines - 11/7

Redwood Swamp - 11/9

Fording The Mule Train

Clark Ranch - 11/12

Slippery Hardscrabble Mountain - 11/13

Bar Fight

Big Bar on Smith’s River - 11/29

Here Comes The Sun - 11/30

Camp Foot Rock - 12/4

Elk Camp House - 12/5

Gates’ Ranch - 12/6

Deer Creek - 12/9

The Hornets’ Nest - 12/10

Our Indian Chief - 12/11

Table Rock Mountain - 12/13

Jacksonville - 12/14

Worse Than A Dog’s Life

No Show Yreka - 12/19

Long Gulch - December 25, 1853

Unhappy New Year - January 1, 1854

The Mines Owe Us $39

Brass Bed

Dirty Long John

My Long Gulch Claim - 1/22

A Miner’s Life

Waterless Claims - February 1854

An Eternal Fool

All Work And No Pay - March 1854

The Innards Win - April 1854

Job Never Mined For Gold

Unworthy Claims - May 1854

Old Channels Pay - June 1854

The Glorious Fourth - July 1854

Yreka’s Aristocrats

Jack Barker Was From Holt’s Bottom

Rebuilding Yreka - August 1854

Gulch Claim Business - September 1854

Diggin’ The Gulch - October 1854

Still No Water - November 1854

What A Charming Life - December 1854

A Long Gulch New Year - January 1855

Don’t Make It Worse - 1/31

No More Townsmen - February 1855

Yreka’s Weather

Rockin’ The Gulch - March 1855

Chinaman Game

What Are They?

Strippin’ The Gulch - April 1855

The Yreka Ditch - May 1855

Get A Mess - June 1855

The Nation’s Sabbath - July 4, 1855

Driftin’ The Gulch - August 1855

Beware, The Poor Indian - September 1855

The Indians Prepare For War - October 1855

War In Oregon! - November 1855

Where Are Cooper’s Indians?

It Never Rains In California - December 1855

Deadly Business: Squaws For Guns

My Folly - January 1856

Experience Is A Stern Teacher - 2/16

My Only Friend - March 1856

Blackfeet Attack Seattle

California Justice

Rogue River Massacre - 3/9

Broken Promises & Lies

Yreka’s Grand Highway Robbery - 3/16

War In Oregon Rages On

My Disappointing Results - 3/26

It Rained! - April 1856

There’s Fighting Everywhere

It Sure Smells Like War

Blockhouse Last Stands

More Indian Troubles - 4/13

Torching Cascades

Alarm & Confusion

Indian Bill

Dry Ditches & Highwaymen

What A Miserable Life

Golden Era Poetry - May 1856

Sick And Alone In The Wilderness - 5/5

Two Totally Different Wars - 5/7

The Poor Indians’ Plan

Who Has The Rights?

James Beaufort – Eye Witness

War Doesn’t Pay

Wise Media Solomons

Yreka’s Dry Ditch

The Vigilance Committee Reorganizes

Election Fraud Exposed

Captain Smith Sees The Light?

You No Payee - 6/26

The Vigilants Take Control - 6/26

Yreka’s Ditch Is Wet - 6/27

Vigilance Committee: The Rest Of The Story

Fireworks: Millhouse & Blunt - July 4, 1856

Miner Street Mob - 7/5

I’d Like A Shot At Taylor

Subpoenaed As A Witness

The End Of War In Oregon

My Best Friend Is Gone - 7/9

A Perfect Slave

California Riots - 8/7

More Modoc Mischief

My Log Cabin Home - 8/10

My Desperate Hope - 8/17

Highwaymen, Politicians & Indians - September 25, 1856

Daniel Jenks Gold Rush Journal Volume 3: 1857-1859

Remember Me

Happy Holidays? - January 1, 1857

Slavery Schemes

Merry With Who?

The Longest Day - January 2, 1857

The Beauties Of Solitude

Cut Off From All Creation

Workin’ The Gulch - 1/16

A Miner’s Funeral - 2/3

Scarce Wood ~ Massacres A Plenty - 2/5

Lockhart’s Ferry Massacre

Chief Lalakes

A Night At The Yreka Theatre - 2/12

Lantern Thin

Sickly Again - 2/16

My Upside-Down Chimney - 3/6

A Miner’s Spring - 5/5

Massacre Of The Filibusters - 5/24

Yreka Canal Script - 5/31

Ready To Vamoose - 6/14

Sellin’ The Gulch

Homeward Bound – July 6, 1857

Dog Creek House - 7/7

Shasta City - 7/8

Marysville - 7/9

Sacramento City - 7/10

San Francisco - 7/11

Time And Fortune - 7/13

The City Life ~ San Francisco - 7/14

Neptune’s Tribute ~ Onboard John L. Stevens

Acapulco, Mexico - 7/30

Panama - 8/3

Aspinall - 8/3

Steamer Central America - 8/ 10

New York - August 12, 1857

Home Again - August 15, 1857

Pawtucket - September 1st

The US Economy Collapses

Long Gulch Is Payin’?

First Baptist Sewing Circle

A Pawtucket Sunday - 12/20

The Unemployment Crisis

An Irish Christmas

Protect Yer Pile!

Enjoying Society

Troublemakers

Weather & Correspondence - January 17 1858

Sleighing Pawtucket Pike

Pomfret, Connecticut

The Weather & Economy Begin To Thaw

Fouch’s Lazy Fortune

Sacred Sticks & Stones

My Last Resting Place

Pawtucket Weather

This Rainy Hole

Having Regrets

Drizzle Town

Oregon - The New Eureka?

The Beginning Of Hostilities

I’m Lost

Atlantic Telegraph & News

Dexter Brothers Explosion

Slatersville

Conquering Self-Doubt

Autumn Blues

Discontented Wanderers

Blackstone Bridge Jollification

Society’s Luxuries

The Providence Fire

My Birthday ~ December 2nd

Pike’s Peak Or Bust?

There’s No Going Back

Praise The Living - January 3 1859

Blew, Snew & Stuck

Shoveling For Dollars

Old Bill & My Cousins

Mysterious Undergarments

Drawings For My Friends

Tolerably Coolish

Who’s Next?

Lonesome Wanderers

I Must Go

Thackery’s Virginians

Being Content

I Dreamed Of A Different Life

About My Journal

Goodbye Pawtucket

Daniel Jenks Gold Rush Journal Volume 4: 1859-1860

Pawtucket

St. Louis

Onboard Steamer Carrier

Kansas City

Colonel Milton Mcgee

Camp 1: Shawnee Springs - March 26, 1859

Camp 2: Cedar Creek - 3/30

Camp 3: Hickory Point - 3/31

Camp 4: Willow Spring Creek - 4/1

Camp 5: 110 Mile Creek - 4/3

Camp 6: Burlingame - 4/4

Camp 7: Dragoon Creek - 4/5

Camp 8: Elm Creek - 4/6

Camp 9: Council Grove - 4/7

Camp 10: Prairie ~ West of Council Grove - 4/8

Camp 11: Cottonwood Creek - 4/9

Camp 12: Turkey Creek - 4/11

Camp 13: Little Arkansas Creek - 4/12

Camp 14: Jarvis Creek - 4/13

Camp 15: Plum Butte - 4/14

Camp 16: Arkansas River Great Bend - 4/16

Camp 17: Arkansas River - 4/17

Camp 18: Pawnee Fork of Arkansas River - 4/18

Camp 19: Chief Little Mountain - 4/19

Camp 20: Desert between Arkansas & Pawnee Fork - 4/20

Camp 21: Arkansas River - 4/21

Camp 22: Arkansas River - 4/22

Camp 23: Arkansas River - 4/23

Camp 24: Arkansas River - 4/24

Camp 25: Arkansas River - 4/25

Camp 26: Arkansas River - 4/26

Camp 27: Arkansas River - 4/27

Camp 28: Aubrey’s Crossing - 4/28

Camp 29: Arkansas River - 4/29

Camp 30: Cold Spring Camp - 4/30

Camp 31: Arkansas River - 5/1

Camp 32: Bent’s Fort - 5/2

Camp 33: Chief Ten Bears - 5/3

Camp 34: Arkansas River - 5/4

Camp 35: Arkansas River - 5/5

Camp 36: Handcart Man & Boney - 5/6

Camp 37: Charley Autobees’ Trading Post - 5/8

Camp 38: Arkansas River - 5/9

Camp 39: Fountain Creek 5 Miles North of Pueblo - 5/10

Camp 40: Fountain Creek 10 Miles North of Pueblo - 5/11

Camp 41: Independence Camp ~ 15 Miles North of Pueblo - 5/17

Camp 42: Jim’s Camp - 5/18

Camp 43: Fagan’s Grave - 5/19

Camp 44: Head of Cherry Creek - 5/20

Camp 45: Lying Speculators - 5/21

Camp 46: Cherry Creek - 5/22

Camp 47: Cherry Creek - 5/23

Camp 48: Denver City - 5/26

Camp 49: Dry Gulch - 5/27

Camp 50: Mountaineer Creek - 5/28

Camp 51: Frosty Creek - 5/29

Camp 52: Cache La Poudre Creek - 5/30

Camp 53: Camp Windy - 5/31

Camp 54: Hunters Camp - 6/1

Camp 55: Laramie Valley - 6/2

Camp 56: Laramie River Valley - 6/3

Camp 57: Pretty Creek - 6/4

Camp 58: Muddy Creek - 6/6

Camp 59: Cherokee Pass of the Rocky Mountains - 6/7

Camp 60: North Platte - 6/8

Camp 61: Mud Creek North Platte Valley - 6/10

Camp 62: Pine Grove Creek - 6/11

Camp 63: Summit Camp - 6/12

Camp 64: Desolation Camp - 6/13

Camp 65: Alkali Camp ~ Valley of Desolation - 6/14

Camp 66: Bitter Creek ~ American Desert - 6/15

Camp 67: Bitter Creek - 6/16

Camp 68: Bitter Creek - 6/17

Camp 69: Bitter Creek - 6/18

Camp 70: Green River - 6/19

Camp 71: Hams Fork of Green River - 6/20

Camp 72: Black Fork of Green River - 6/21

Camp 73: Black Fork - 6/22

Camp 74: Bridger Fort - 6/23

Camp 75: Silver Creek - 6/24

Camp 76: Head of Echo Canyon - 6/25

Camp 77: Echo Pass - 6/26

Camp 78: Dry Camp - 6/27

Camp 79: Dragoon Camp - 6/28

Camp 80: Salt Lake City - 6/29

Camp 81: Salt Lake Valley - 6/30

Camp 82: Salt Lake Valley near Weberville - 7/3

Camp 83: Salt Lake Valley - 7/4

Camp 84: Salt Lake Valley near Willow City - 7/5

Camp 85: Brigham City Box Elder Creek - 7/6

Camp 86: Warm Springs - 7/7

Camp 87: Blue Springs - 7/8

Camp 88: Deep Creek - 7/9

Camp 89: Pilot Spring Camp - 7/11

Camp 90: De Casure Creek - 7/12

Camp 91: Mountain Spring ~ Goose Creek Mountains - 7/13

Camp 92: Goose Creek - 7/14

Camp 93: Rock Spring ~ Thousand Spring Valley - 7/15

Camp 94: Thousand Spring Valley - 7/16

Camp 95: Thousand Spring Valley - 7/17

Camp 96: Head of Thousand Spring Valley - 7/18

Camp 97: Head of Humboldt Valley - 7/19

Camp 98: Humboldt River - 7/20

Camp 99: Humboldt River - 7/21

Camp 100: Humboldt River - 7/22

Camp 101: Humboldt River - 7/23

Camp 102: Gravelly Ford Humboldt River - 7/24

Camp 103: Humboldt River - 7/25

Camp 104: Humboldt River - 7/26

Camp 105: Humboldt River - 7/27

Camp 106: Humboldt River - 7/28

Camp 107: Humboldt River - 7/29

Camp 108: Humboldt River - 7/30

Camp 109: Big Bend or Lassen’s Meadows - 7/31

Camp 110: Antelope Springs - 8/1

Camp 111: Rabbit Hole Spring - 8/2

Camp 112: Warm Spring - 8/3

Camp 113: Granite Creek - 8/4

Camp 114: Wall Spring - 8/6

Camp 115: Smoky Creek - 8/7

Camp 116: Honey Lake Valley - 8/10

Camp 117: Honey Lake Valley - 8/11

Camp 118: Susanville - Honey Lake Valley - 8/12

Camp 119: Mountain Camp - 8/13

Camp 120: Eagle Lake ~ Summit of Sierra Nevada - 8/14

Camp 121: Indian Battle Camp - 8/15

Camp 122: Spring Camp - 8/16

Camp 123: Pit River ~ Mouth of Willow Creek - 8/17

Camp 124: Fall River ~ Opposite Fort Crooks - 8/18

Camp 125: Near Fort Crooks - 8/19

Camp 126: McCloud’s River - 8/20

Camp 127: Near Pilgrims Camp - 8/21

Camp 128: Mountain House ~ Shasta Butte - 8/22

Camp 129: E. Herd’s Ranch ~ Shasta Valley - 8/23

Camp 130: Shasta River California - 8/24

Yreka City ~ Siskiyou County California - 8/25

Pike’s Peak Expedition Mileage Chart

Pike’s Peak Expedition Summary

California Expedition Mileage Chart

California Expedition Summary

Yreka - 9/12

Yreka - 10/27

Yreka - 12/2

Yreka - 12/24

Long Gulch ~ Near Yreka - January 1, 1860

Long Gulch ~ Near Yreka - 2/1

Daniel Jenks Gold Rush Journal Volume 5: 1863-1865

Yreka - September 23, 1863

E. Herd’s Ranch - 9/24

Grass Lake Valley - 9/26

Bob’s Camp on Butte Creek - 9/28

Little Klamath Lake - 10/1

Lost River - 10/3

Chief Jacks of the Klamath Lake Indians - 10/5

Yarnee Lake - 10/6

Martin’s Fork of Klamath - 10/8

Old Jones the Santa Fe Ox Driver - 10/11

Trout Creek - 10/11

Beautiful Meadow Valley - 10/12

Licam Creek - 10/13

Spring Creek - 10/15

Silver Lake - 10/16

Snake Indians - 10/17

Tornado Lake ~ You All Will Die - 10/18

Arctic Plains - 10/20

Chalk Springs - 10/21

Dog-Gone Mountain Springs - 10/22

The Wagon Rescue - 10/24

Crooked River Valley - 10/25

Harney Lake Valley - 10/28

The Dead Sea - 11/1

Camp Five Shirts - 11/3

Emigrant Trail Junction - 11/4

The Cattle Heist - 11/8

Cattle Rustlin’ Indians - 11/9

George Wasson’s Grave - 11/13

Lost In Indian Country - 11/15

Owyhee River - 11/16

Camp Lost Hope - 11/19

This Infernal Hole - 11/22

Here Again Canyon - 11/26

Dorris’ Drovers from Siskiyou - 11/29

The Indians Pick A Fight - 12/4

Out of The Wilderness - 12/7

Old Fort Boise - 12/10

Junction House ~ Boise Valley - 12/15

Junction House - January 1, 1864

Boise City - 3/17

The Horse Chase - 3/24

Wood Creek Hotel ~ Road to South Boise - 3/28

Happy Camp - 3/30

Rocky Point - 4/1

Syrup Creek House - 4/3

Boise City - 4/6

Shaffer’s Ranch - 4/21

Placerville - 4/24

Pioneer City Idaho - 6/1

Hog ‘em - 7/1

Hog ‘em - January 1, 1865

Idaho City - 7/11

Placerville ~ Idaho Territory - 7/15

Weather Record - Winter 1864/65 Pioneer City Idaho

Umatilla Landing - 7/18

Dallas - 7/20

Portland Oregon - July 22, 1865

Author’s Note

Acknowledgements

Author’s Note

If there is a book that you want to read but it hasn’t been written yet, then you must write it. Those words are attributed to Toni Morrison. And so it was with me, when I happened upon the gold rush journals of Daniel Jenks. This started from wanting to learn more about the little-known history of Independence Camp, a site in southern Colorado near my home. The camp had been a way station for gold-seekers during the 19th century gold rush.

Yet my digging led me to the travels and travails of Jenks, who threw caution and a comfortable life to the wind in search of gold half a world away. It seemed as though I was sifting the soil, mining dim shafts of history in search of an interesting nugget or two. And in that deliberate excavation of the past, I struck a gleaming vein of gold in the dark. That treasure was Daniel Jenks’ journals, and what could one do but dig and delve deeper?

I never aspired or thought myself to be an author, but rather was inspired by Jenks’ journey and his persistence in putting it to paper. He was no geologist, seafarer, or outdoorsman either - far from it. Yet Jenks learned as he went, summoned resolve and resourcefulness, and made do. I took keen interest in and courage from his faith in what’s possible, and trust I’ve done justice to his tale.

I hope you will enjoy Daniel’s story as much as I have.

Larry Obermesik

Daniel A. Jenks

1827-1869

Daniel Jenks Gold Rush Journal

Volume 1: 1849-1851

Pawtucket January 1, 1849 - I am now 21 years old, my 21st birthday being the 2nd of December last. Although but just arrived at man’s estate, still I have already learned that disappointment is the lot of all. Many causes have conspired to make home (i.e. Pawtucket) disagreeable and I am about to leave it for a far distant country. It would be useless to say what these causes for my present discontent are. My friends all know, and others may judge from the lines on the opening page. Suffice it to say that where once all was right, is now darkness. And hope has made way for, shall I say, despair? No. I am bound for California and the Gold Regions.

1/5 - Joined the Narragansett Mining and Trading Company. This company, consisting of 86 members, was organized in this town. We have bought the Barque Velasco of Boston, fitted her out for a two-year cruise with ample supply of provisions, water and so forth for the trip around Cape Horn to California. Where we intend to follow gold mining, trading, etc. God knows I am not so anxious to dig gold. May God preserve my dear kind parents and sisters during my absence.

2/8 - This cold icy day is my last day at home, it may be for many years. God only knows. What changes may take place ere I return? And what may my fate be abroad, in this wild and unsettled country I am about to visit? Aye, it may be my fortune to lay my bones in this strange land. Maybe we will never reach there. For we have many a thousand miles of the wide ocean to cross before we are through. But we are all in God’s hands, whether at home or abroad. And if we are to die, it matters but little whether we are at home or not, so we are prepared for the change. This life is but a dream, at best. May we all meet at the grand awakening after death.

Barque Velasco ~ Boston February 11, 1849

Today we dropped out from the wharf and came to anchor out in the stream. We are all ready now for our long voyage around the Horn. I left home on the eighth and have been in Boston ever since, I feel that now the last tie is indeed severed. And tonight, as we lay out here in the stream, I heard the chime of bells on one of the city churches tolling out that old familiar hymn Old Hundred. Every note seemed to strike a nerve leading to my heart and I never, in all my life, felt so solemn. All around us was hushed in the stillness of night. Naught else could be heard, except the splashing of the water against the sides of our barque. It was indeed a solemn hour to me.

2/14 - Since the 11th we have been froze in. But about 2:00 PM we got under way and crowded our way through the drifting ice and at dark we discharged our pilot and stowed out to sea. Goodbye my native land. Fare thee well my childhood’s home, parents, sisters dear. Farewell. May the supreme ruler of the seas, as well as the land, watch over and protect you and guide me.

Author’s note: The text in the following paragraph is partially obscured, some words are not readable. Here’s what I think Daniel wrote:

And Sarah dear, although we may never again meet here on earth, may your life be one of happiness, may you never know what it is to feel as I now do, so utterly bereft of friends and bourn down by sorrow, so broken.

2/17 - Sails Ho is the cry this morning. But little care I for the cry. I would not go on deck to hardly save a universe, for I am sick. Yes seasick, heartsick and homesick, and if that is not enough to make a man desperate, what is? The morning after we left Boston, we all awoke to find ourselves in the worst gale that many of us had ever experienced. The old barque rolled and tumbled about, utterly regardless of our feelings. And most of us Greenhorns were soon glad enough to crawl back to our bunks, where we lay. A sicker mess was never seen. And as to that, we as yet are not much better off today.

2/18 Latitude 36° 51’ Longitude 62° 54’

2/19 Latitude 36° 21’ Longitude 59° 48’

2/20 Latitude 36° 0’ Longitude 57° 4’

2/21 Latitude 35° 0’ Longitude 55° 40’

2/22 Latitude 33° 28’ Longitude 55° 2’

2/23 Latitude 32° 22’ Longitude 54° 25’

2/24 Latitude 31° 16’ Longitude 53° 51’

2/25 Latitude 31° 47’ Longitude 53° 7’

2/26 Latitude 31° 27’ Longitude 52° 17’

2/27 Latitude 31° 26’ Longitude 49° 40’

Sail Ho, Sail Ho, is the cry. Where away? Two points off the weather beam, is the reply and we could see afar off in the distance two sails. But oh, what weather we have had for the past week, such a miserable set as we are here. Cooped up in our miserable quarters between decks 5 feet in height. No fire and cold as blazes, all seasick and the ship layed too most of the time, unable to make sail in this gale.

2/28 - Neither of the sails are in sight this morning. I am beginning to recover from my fit of seasickness and will endeavor to write a little today and firstly, let me describe our vessel and her accommodations for her 86 owners. The Barque Velasco is an old-fashioned tub of about 250 tons burthen, formerly in the East India trade. She has a small cabin on deck with 14 bunks. The officers of the ship occupy this cabin and the balance of us are stowed away between decks.

Here we have a sort of a rough cabin fitted up for 72 of us. This cabin is but 5 feet in height. Consequently, we cannot stand erect nor walk about without stooping nearly double. Add to this the double row of bunks around the sides of the ship, another double row fore and aft amidship and you have left two narrow alleyways, about 4 feet in width on each side of the midship bunks. These alleys are lined on each side with chests and trunks pushed partly under their respective owners’ bunks, but projecting out on each side. So as to serve the double purpose of seats and tables to eat from and thus taking up all the passageways, with the exception of about a foot wide in the center, so that we cannot move about below deck.

If we want any exercise we must go on deck for it, and let us see what the chances are there. Arrived on deck we find it completely covered with rows of beef barrels. But the captain says we shall soon eat this up and then at least we shall have deck room -- but we did not have to wait for that. For one-night Old Boreas and Neptune eased us by, sweeping off nearly the whole deck-load, together with a long strip of the bulwarks, by a heavy sea that swept over us. And now as to the victualing department, we have two cooks and two little galleys to cook in, for about a hundred men all told. Of course, with such accommodations we cannot have much of a variety, nor many extra dishes. We have no tables and few dishes.

The way we manage to sustain life in this respect is as follows. As I said before there are 72 of us below decks, these are divided into 11 messes. Every man in the mess has to take his turn in rotation to act as Steward of his mess for a week. This Steward has to be on hand at the galley at mealtime, with his mess pans and coffee pot to receive his mess’s rations. After securing his pan full of beef and pork and his pot of coffee, he starts with them for his mess, where the members are already seated. Each one upon his chest, tin plate and tin cup in hand, ready to devour (if he has an appetite) what is set before him. And if the weather and sea is as rough as it has been with us since we started, it is no easy matter to make out a meal.

For you have to look out for your plate upon your knees, your cup of coffee, handle your knife and fork as you can and keep all right side up, when the vessel is pitching about at all sorts of angles, every minute changing your position. After your meal is concluded, the Steward takes the plates and cleans them and stows all away for the next meal. But to a seasick man, as most of us have been, the very sight of such food is enough to turn one’s stomach. And often whilst eating, or trying to force such stuff down, you will probably have a man vomiting on each side of you. In fact, the place smells as sour as a swill tub now. A well man would be sick here in less than 15 minutes. Such a sight as it is here below, I never expected to see.

About 70 men, all vomiting and groaning and grunting at once, the barque pitching about at a terrible rate. The wind howling and shrieking through the rigging, the sailors swearing at the Greenhorns. All is confusion.

Our Crew

Captain - Giles Spencer, of East Greenwich

1st Mate - Tom Sayce, of Providence

2nd Mate - Isaac Nickerson, of Pawtucket

President - William Roberts, of South Scituate, RI

Vice President - Laban Wade, of Woonsocket

Secretary - William Lune, of Pawtucket

Treasurer - Elisha Bucklin, of Pawtucket

Director - Horace Austin, of Central Falls

Director - Nelson Chace, of Providence

Director - Robert Taft, of East Greenwich

Director - Leonard Walker, of Sesconk

Cabin Mess

Mess #1

John Read, of Providence

William Chase, of Pawtucket

Lucius Nurse, of Lonsdale

Samuel Leonard, of Central Falls

Henry Williams, of Providence

Jeremiah Reynolds, of Providence

William Johnson, of Pawtucket

Abraham Sears, of Pawtucket

Henry Cleveland, of Pawtucket

Mess #2

Daniel A. Jenks, of Pawtucket

Elisha Brown, of Providence

Orrin Perrin, of Thompson, CT

Luther Fisher, of Thompson, CT

Tom Read, of Central Falls

John Atkinson, of Providence

Paul Dexter, of Providence

Mess #3

Harvey Bowen, of Pawtucket

Abraham Fletcher, of Providence

Herbert Ide, of Attleborough

William Shephard, of Providence

Freeman Winn, of Pawtucket

Levi Maxey, of Providence

Allen Reynolds, of Pawtucket

Mess No. 4

Nelson Jenks, of Smithfield

Allen Taylor, of Olneyville

William Kelly, of Blackstone

Nathaniel Shephardson, of Hopkinton, RI

John Young, of Pawtucket

John Horton, of Pawtucket

Shirley Ellsbree, of Valley Falls

Mess No. 5

Charles Richardson, of Pawtucket

Winsor Mowry, of Woonsocket

Cyrus Cooke, of Pawtucket

Leonard Read, of Pawtucket

Thomas Saunders, of Pawtucket

Francis Rett, of Blackstone

Mess No. 6

Thomas McCormick, of Pawtucket

John Templeton, of Pawtucket

James Page, of Providence

Jonathan Lambert, of Providence

Ezra Baker, of Pawtucket

Orrin Baker, of Pawtucket

Mess No. 7

Ebenezer Baker, of Pawtucket

Alfred Messinger, of Providence

Silas Pierce, of Pawtucket

Francis Pierce, of Rehobeth

George Sayles, of Blackstone

George Humes, of Blackstone

Mess No. 8

John Burgess, of Central Falls

Spencer Moury, of Pawtucket

James Smith, of Pawtucket

Welcome Whipple, of Cumberland

Hiram Perry, of Pawtucket

Davis Perry, of Pawtucket

George Murry, of Providence

Mess No. 9

Hiram Carter, of Pawtucket

Benjamin Smith, of Johnston

Louis Fales, of Blackstone

Nathaniel Baxter, of Pawtucket

William Hathaway, of Pawtucket

Asa Andrews, of Providence

Mess No. 10

Charles Randall, of Providence

Henry Arnold, of Woonsocket

Frederick Fish, of Providence

James Cady, of Gloucester, RI

Sanford Capron, of Lonsdale

Henry Cushman, of Pawtucket

Leander Burt, of Providence

Mess No. 11

Samuel Graham, of Pawtucket

James McCarty, of Central Falls

Christopher Skinner, of Attleborough

William Bonney, of Pawtucket

William Parsons, of Fairfax, VT

William Allen, of Central Falls

Obadiah Arnold, of Providence

The Crew

Starboard Watch:

Dyer

Manchester

Leister

Stetson

Hicks

Larboard Watch:

Bliss

Joyslin

Patt

Plunkett

1st Steward - James Gerrybine

2nd Steward - James Micklejohn

1st Cook - James Griffin

2nd Cook - Dwight Newport

99 souls all told.

2/28 Latitude 31° 8’ Longitude 48° 4’

3/1 Latitude 30° 36’ Longitude 45° 52’

3/2 Latitude 30° 48’ Longitude 42° 44’

3/3 Latitude 30° 47’ Longitude 41° 58’

3/4 Latitude 32° 10’ Longitude 40° 15’

3/5 Latitude 33° 34’ Longitude 38° 27’

3/6 Latitude 34° 32’ Longitude 36° 45’

3/7 Latitude 35° 34’ Longitude 34° 36’

3/8 Latitude 36° 38’ Longitude 32° 16’

3/9 Latitude 37° 9’ Longitude 30° 4’

Take A Balloon - 3/9

Well, here we are, nearly a month out and we are nearly as far north as when we started. I don’t know much about these watercraft, but judging from appearances I should say that we might as well undertake to navigate a balloon, for we appear to have made but mighty little progress towards Cape Horn. Such weather and such a ship. Oh dear! We make Longitude but lose as much in our Latitude - make a mile leeway to every one ahead. Everything is upside down and wrong side out. Down below, boxes, chests, mess pans, old clothes and boots, stray shirts and pants are awfully mixed up. Whilst on deck, sea coal, mackerels, codfish and soft soap are pitching about in company, lovely to behold. As sick a state of affairs you never did see.

The wind has kicked up an awful sea and we are poor Greenhorns. Having thrown up everything but our boots, are about over our seasickness and able to begin to crawl about and grin at Old Neptune in derision, at his attempts to keep us down below. We intend now to run into the Azores, as we are about their Latitude.

Pico ~ Azores Islands - 3/11

Land Ho! Was the joyful cry that awakened me early this morning. And tumbling out of my bunk, I rushed up on deck to catch a glimpse of Old Mother Earth. And true enough there she lay, dead ahead. Looking like a dense blue cloud arising out of the sea, it was the peak of Pico, one of the Azores Islands. For a long time, I leaned over the rail gazing upon this (to me welcome sight) and at last when I was called away to breakfast, I did so with regret. But hurried down my rations of salt junk and stinking coffee, to again return and feast my eyes upon this welcome sight of terra firma.

As we gradually neared the land, the trees and rocks began to make their appearances and soon we could discern the snow-white cottages as they glistened in the morning sun. It was truly the most lovely sight, and well repaid me for all my past sufferings on the voyage. Oh, if someone that I knew of could but have been here to enjoy it with me, was the thought that was ever uppermost in my mind. Never was grass so green, or foliage so beautiful to me before. And as we glide along around this point, we behold still another island right ahead, for which we make and soon we come to anchor abreast the fort, on the island of Faial.

Faial ~ Azores Islands - 3/11

Last night about sundown liberty was given for one boat’s crew to go ashore. And I — who had stowed myself away in the mizzen chains to be ready for a spring — dropped down into the boat, just as she swung clear of the ship. I was bound to get ashore as soon as possible. We reached the beach and got ashore without getting very wet and were met on the beach by an old Portuguese Tavern Keeper who conducted us to his house, where we got an excellent supper of eggs, fish etc. And there we remained until about 9 o’clock, endeavoring to make up as far as possible in the eating and drinking wine, for our short rations over the month past.

And now that I have got our company all seated at a regular table, with real earthen dishes to eat from, plenty of good palatable food, plenty of oranges and wines to drink, and fair dark eyed Señoritas to wait upon us and a steady floor beneath us, I will, whilst they are all so well occupied, attempt to describe this town and country. In the first place, it will be seen by my log of the voyage, that we have had contrary winds that have blown us much further to the north than we wished. We calculated to touch at the Cape de Verde Islands. But had no idea when we started off, of putting in here. But man proposes and God disposes. Fate decreed that we should stop here and I am glad of it. This group of islands belong to the Portuguese and of course most of the inhabitants are strong Catholics. Like all other Catholic countries, the inhabitants are mostly poor, dirty and ignorant beings. They have a large cathedral, one or two nunneries and several small chapels, as small as this city is.

The Padres are numerous, and of course insolent. They march about the city in their rich but homely dresses, the crowns of their heads shaved, feeling as big as so many turkey cocks amongst their brood. Whilst their supporters, the poor ignorant peasant, feels himself highly honored if he can but kiss his High Holiness’s fingers. This city of Orto, I believe it is called, is the residence of all foreign Consuls and the principal town of the group. Winemaking and fruit growing appears to be the staple business of the country. The city is built on the side of the mountain, rising in terraces one above the other and from the sea presents a beautiful view. The streets are narrow, being in most cases mere alleyways and owing to the nature of the country are obliged to be well graved. As in the rainy season they look like so many small creeks, and were it not for the graving would soon be washed into the sea.

In fact, these islands are but mountain peaks that arise from the sea, having been thrown up by volcanic action in the early ages of the world. Looking across the bay (8 miles) the island of Pico is seen, with its cap of snow rising far above the vine clad hills below. The American Consul Mr. Dabney has a beautiful residence there. His house is situated in the center of a large garden of many acres, set out with orange, lemon and other tropical trees and is certainly the most lovely place I ever saw. He is a large wine raiser, and we visited his large wine vaults and sampled his wines. He has given our company permission to visit his grounds whenever we feel disposed to. But I have left our fellows at the public house long enough and will now return to them. During the evening we were joined by others of the company, and we altogether had a grand time of it. And I know not to what lengths we should have gone in our feastings, had it not been announced by someone who just entered that the streets were full of girls, anxious to get a sight of our crowd of fellows.

We broke up our carousal and went out into the street and sure enough, there were about 100 girls there, all jabbering in Portuguese and anxious to see the show. We sauntered around the town, visiting the shops and residences of the inhabitants and I must confess that some of the fellows got a little high on the wine that is sold at six cents per bottle. And before I retired for the night, they were making night musical, if not hideous, with their song of I am bound to California, the Gold Mines for to see.

3/15 - Was awakened this morning by the report of our gun aboard ship. Upon going down to the pier, I saw that our barque had her colors at half-mast, and she was drifting into shore, having busted one of the cables in last night’s gale. She was finally fetched up by the other cable and we have hired an anchor and cable of the American Consul, to hold by, until we can get our own up again.

The Consul’s Garden ~ Orto, Faial

Yesterday visited the Consul’s Garden in company with William Parsons. After passing through his Cooper’s yard, we passed through a gate in the wall and found ourselves in a most beautiful flower garden, where we found flowers from all parts of the world. Passing on through paths lined with the box plant 12 and 15 feet in height and bordered with flowering shrubs and plants, we came to the house. Where we met Mrs. Dabney who, being a Boston woman, was of course glad to see any of her fellow countrymen and she had many questions to ask of us about home, as we walked through her grounds and eat of her fruit. She has two sons, the eldest is married to Prof. Webster’s daughter of Boston and the youngest is engaged to another daughter who is on here now, spending winter with her sister.

We passed on through groves of orange, lemon and fig trees, through clusters of large rosebushes all in bloom and finally came to a summerhouse on a little eminence commanding a view far out to sea. And here on a windowsill I found written the following lines:

Tis calm out on the deep blue sea

The winds sleep on the waves

The banners sluggish listlessly

How hang about the stays

Awake ye winds, from this deep sleep

And o’er the dark sea roam

But in thy course across the sea

Oh, waft the Harbinger home

Away away why wait ye here

My only hope is there

This land to others may be dear

To me it brings despair

To me tis like a long, long night

A watching for the day

With straining eyes to catch the light

Of daybreak’s glimmering ray

And oh the Harbinger would be

That light upon the soul

That day breaks glimmering to me

That to the watcher stole

For here I gaze with straining eyes

Far out upon the seas

For with her coming, oh there lies

All life can bring to me

(Singed) A Wanderer

No doubt this was written by young Dabney’s wife (Webster’s Daughter) as she sat here day after day watching for her husband’s return from some of his trips to Boston, in his Father’s Barque Harbinger. God bless you, young lady and may your life be one continual season of happiness, is the fervent prayer of one who has been the recipient of your kind feelings when in a strange land and one who knows the true value of such a wife as you must be.

We sat here in this old arbor a long time. Feasting our eyes with the fine view to be obtained here of the city around us, of the scene before us with the islands in the distance, snuffing the spiced odors that were wafted by us, by the light breeze as it swept through the groves of cinnamon, oranges, peach and lemon trees around us. But it would be useless for me to attempt to describe the thousand pleasant sensations I enjoyed whilst here on this beautiful island. To me, it seems a paradise. After leaving the garden we were shown the wine vaults and tasted the wines from old casks and hogsheads, covered with the same mold and rust of years.

Faial Crater

3/19 - Today we made up a party of six or eight to visit the crater on the island. It is at the top of the highest peak and about 9 miles they say from the city. After climbing up the rough paths and passing through many lovely little valleys, we at last came to this vast hole in the ground. I should think it was a mile across at the top and about three quarters of a mile across in the bottom and at least 900 feet deep. The top of the mountain is completely barren, not a shrub to be seen. The sides full of ravines and gullies exceedingly uneven and making traveling very bad. We descended to the bottom after a rough scramble and after collecting specimens for friends at home, climbed out again and returned to town, well satisfied with the trip.

3/20 - This is our last day ashore, as we sail at 2:00 PM today. Goodbye girls, goodbye all the good times we have had whilst here. Never shall I forget the many happy hours I have spent here, beautiful gem of the sea. Our stay here has been one long protracted gala day to most of us and never have I enjoyed myself better. Fruit of all kinds have we been feasted with, at about 9 pence a hatful. Wine has been our constant drink, at 6 cents a quart and pretty, lovely dark eyed Señoritas our constant companions. What more could man ask for? But our time has come to say farewell and at last we must again return to our miserable salt junk and pork rations.

3/21 Latitude 37° 56’ Longitude 29° 4’

3/22 Latitude 35° 7’ Longitude 28° 11’

3/23 Latitude 32° 3’ Longitude 27° 51’

3/24 Latitude 29° 14’ Longitude 27° 12’

3/25 Latitude 27° 10’ Longitude 26° 56’

3/26 Latitude 24° 51’ Longitude 26° 32’

3/27 Latitude 22° 35’ Longitude 26° 14’

3/28 Latitude 19° 59’ Longitude 26° 1’

Spoke barque Belvedere from NY for California 88 passengers all well

3/29 Latitude 18° 0’ Longitude 25° 26’

Made Cape de Verde at noon. At dark, they are about 40 miles dead ahead, we will put in tomorrow I expect. Since we left Faial, we have had fine weather. Much better on ship than the first part of the voyage. There is such a sameness at sea that one can find but little to write about that would interest anyone.

Cape De Verdes Island ~ St. Vincent, Porta Granda - 3/30

We found ourselves this morning in the harbor. And a more desolate, barren, rocky place I never even read about. We came in here for wood and are getting it aboard today. But I do not see where it comes from, for there is not a tree to be seen. We found the Audley Clark from Newport for California with passengers here repairing, having sprung a leak out to sea. This island seems to be naught but a barren rocky mountain shooting up out of the sea and is inhabited by Africans who have a small village of mud huts near the beach, but what they can get there to support life is a mystery to me.

3/31 - Porta Granda. Went ashore this morning and took a cruise around amongst the Natives, visited their shanties and whatever else was worth seeing and found but mighty little at that. The town consists of a church without windows, made of mud and thatched with reeds. A hole in a rock with three cannons mounted on it, which they call a fort. About 40 mud huts inhabited by about 500 Natives, most of them clothed in Old Dame Nature’s ready-made suit. There is no vegetation to be seen with the exception of here and there a sickly-looking evergreen shrub. There is an American cemetery here, where lie the remains of 12 seamen and two midshipmen, part of the crew of USS Preble who were buried here December 1844.

4/1 Left Porta Grand last night

4/1 Latitude 14° 49’ Longitude 24° 40’

4/2 Latitude 12° 30’ Longitude 23° 56’

4/3 Latitude 1° 58’ Longitude 23° 17’

4/4 Latitude 7° 35’ Longitude 22° 33’

4/5 Latitude 5° 25’ Longitude 22° 10’

4/6 Latitude 3° 40’ Longitude 21° 20’ Spoke Portuguese brig Audry bound for Brazil

4/7 Latitude 2° 35’ Longitude 20° 0’

4/8 Latitude 1° 18’ Longitude 21° 36’ Four ships in sight today.

4/9 Latitude 0° 42’ North Longitude 21° 41’

Three ships in sight this morning. At noon spoke Alceste of Glasgow for Valparaiso, all well.

4/10 Latitude 0° 6’ South Longitude 23° 9’ West

Crossed The Equator - 4/11

Crossed the equator today. At dark we saw what we supposed to be Alceste, dead ahead. Lost sight of her in a black squall cloud. Early this morning passed a wreck supposed to be Alceste, hailed them and they needed no assistance as their ship was all right, having only lost their masts. They were just far enough ahead of us to catch the squall, which we escaped by our old tub being so poor a sailor. The race is not always to the swift.

4/11 Latitude 1° 38’ South Longitude 23° 9’ West

4/12 Latitude 3° 17’ South Longitude 24° 16’ West

4/13 Latitude 4° 55’ South Longitude 25° 45’ West

4/14 Latitude 6° 35’ South Longitude 26° 48’ West

4/15 Latitude 8° 36’ South Longitude 27° 37’ West

4/16 Latitude 10° 26’ South Longitude 28° 9’ West

4/17 Latitude 12° 11’ South Longitude 28° 40’ West

4/18 Latitude 13° 41’ South Longitude 28° 59’ West

4/19 Latitude 16° 8’ South Longitude 29° 3’ West

4/20 Latitude 18° 44’ South Longitude 29° 34’ West

4/21 Latitude 19° 32’ South Longitude 29° 25’ West

4/22 Latitude 20° 6’ South Longitude 31° 48’ West

4/23 Latitude 21° 11’ South Longitude 33° 27’ West

4/24 Latitude 22° 15’ South Longitude 34° 47’ West

For the last few days we have had headwinds, but we are now steering our course. The monotony of sea life is very tedious, no change of the scene but the same view always presents itself. Naught but blue water around you and blue sky above you, with now and then a gale to stir you up. Many an hour have I whiled away, listening to the yarns as spun by our sailors. One was with Wilkes in his exploring expedition, was one of Drew Underhill’s boat crew at the time he was killed by the Islanders in the Pacific. And points with pride to a scar on his cheek, the result of a wound received in trying to rescue his officer. Another was onboard the US Somers at the time of the mutiny, when young Spencer was hung.

4/25 Latitude 23° 49’ South Longitude 35° 48’ West

Fine weather today. Although time passes rather heavily here far out to sea, still we endeavor to make the best of it and use our best efforts to drive dull care away. After our supper of salt beef and pork at eight bells, or 4:00 PM, we sometimes call up the violinist and all that wish to stir their legs go in for a regular fore and aft breakdown. We sometimes try our hands at a Vaudeville, with bearded partners, but they are but a poor substitute for the Simon-pure article. Sometimes we try on the gloves and practice at hard knocks in self-defense. And best of all for exercise, we have the good old boyish game of tag. Fore and aft, above and below, we have it. And if in leaping over barrels and casks, one slips through into the slush tub, why all the better. Anything for a laugh.

4/26 Latitude 25° 38’ South Longitude 37° 6’ West

4/27 Latitude 27° 24’ South Longitude 38° 31’ West

4/28 Latitude 27° 51’ South Longitude 37° 33’ West

4/29 Latitude 28° 59’ South Longitude 37° 40’ West

Drinking Poisoned Water – 6/15

This morning it is dead calm again. Opened a cask of water this morning and found it, as usual, was as green and stunk worse than any stagnant food I ever saw. Still, we must drink it, for we have no other. When we left Boston, we thought we had good water, for we had paid for good and expected to get it. But it seems our Directors, to save money, instead of buying new casks bought a lot of oil casks and hired a company to burn them out and fill them for us. Now they say that old oil casks make as good water butts as anything else, if they are burned out clean before filling. But our rascally water men, knowing that we were bound for a long voyage and not fearing detection, only burned out about a dozen of them and the balance they filled up with water just as they were.

They then, in stowing the hold, put the good water near the hatch where we should use it first and consequently, we never discovered the imposition until far out to sea. Now we find that all our water is put up in casks with the settlings or sediment that arises from whale oil about a foot deep. So that when we open a cask, there is this loathsome mass of curry floating on top and our water tastes 10 times worse than it would to drink out of an oil can. I had expected to find hard fare, but this drinking whale oil and water mixed, is rather ahead of my time.

4/30 Latitude 30° 7’ South Longitude 39° 18’ West

A 10 knot breeze this morning and going along finely. As to that water business, we find upon examination that we have a few casks of sweet water and are to be allowed a pint a day for drinking to the man. As to the diluted whale oil, we can drink as much of that as we want. Our coffee and tea has to be made from this, and beautiful stuff it is. We have to hold our nose and gulp it down the best way we can, but tis awful.

Note: Text that was struck out -- Smells like the contents of a chamber mug after it has stood about a week

This kind of coffee, with our salt horse meat, sea crackers as hard as flints and oh occasionally a plum duff or pudding, boiled in salt water, forms our daily food and drink. Yesterday it rained quite hard. We took advantage of it to catch some 8 or 10 hogsheads of fresh water. By stopping up the scupper’s holes, we caught all that fell on deck. And when it got deep enough to bail, we took our buckets and commenced filling up our empty hogs’ heads - utterly regardless of tobacco quids etc. the deck was covered with. And now when we go to pump out of the barrels a drink, we have first to shove away the floating quids and goat pills before we can get at the water. But even this, as filthy as it is, is far better and much more palatable than our Boston oil-diluted stuff. A life on the ocean waves, indeed.

5/1 Latitude 32° 23’ South Longitude 38° 55’ West

5/2 Latitude 34° 5’ South Longitude 37° 59’ West

5/3 Latitude 36° 2’ South Longitude 38° 1’ West

5/4 Latitude 37° 29’ South Longitude 37° 23’ West

5/5 Latitude 38° 6’ South Longitude 37° 27’ West

5/6 Latitude 38° 43’ South Longitude 39° 10’ West

Sunday again and cold as blazes. For the past week we have had headwinds and blowing