was west, and we immediately prepared to leave our fine harbor. By eight we passed the "Gulnare," bid her officers and crew farewell, beat out of the narrow passage beautifully, and proceeded to sea with the hope of reaching the harbor of Little Macatine, distant forty-three miles; but ere the middle of the day it became calm, then rain, then the wind to the east again, and all were sea-sick as much as ever. I saw a Lestris[1] near the vessel, but of what kind I could not tell, it flew like a Pigeon Hawk, alighting on the water like a Gull, and fed on some codfish liver which was thrown overboard for it,—and some Thalassidroma,[2]but none came within shot, and the sea was too rough to go after them. About a dozen common Crossbills, and as many Redpolls (Fringilla [Acanthis] linaria) came and perched on our top-yards, but I would not have them shot, and none were caught. Our young men have been fishing to pass the time, and have caught a number of cod.
July 14. The wind blew cold and sharp from the northeast this morning, and we found ourselves within twenty miles of "Little Macatine," the sea beating heavily on our bows, as we beat to the windward, tack after tack. At noon it was quite calm, and the wished-for island in sight, but our captain despairs of reaching it to-day. It looks high and horribly rugged, the highest land we have yet seen. At four o'clock, being about a mile and a half distant, we took the green boat, and went off. As we approached, I was surprised to see how small some Ducks looked which flew between us and the rocks, so stupendously high were the rough shores under which our little bark moved along. We doubled the cape and came to the entrance of the Little Macatine harbor, but so small did it appear to me that I doubted if it was the harbor; the shores were terribly wild, fearfully high and rugged, and nothing was heard but the croaking of a pair of Ravens and their half-grown brood, mingling with the roar of the surf against the rocky
