Wednesday, September 6.—Since midnight last night we have had a very hard gale, and till eight o'clock this evening we managed to carry close reefs; but since that time we are lying-to under the balance-reefed mainsail and a small jib. There is a very dangerous sea running, but the vessel seems to ride very comfortably—much better than I would have expected her to do; still a sea falls on board now and then, and the water is finding its way to almost every part of her; but she is not making any water in her bottom. The wind is at W.N.W., and inclined to back to the northward. I fear that the heaviest of the gale is yet to come. Since noon it has rained heavily, with gloomy dark weather, and it is very cold—thermometer 42⋅37.
Thursday, September 7.—Hard gale and high dangerous sea. The little vessel is being knocked about unmercifully. Heavy rain. No place to lie down. Blankets and every stitch of clothing wringing wet. Can't get anything cooked, not even a cup of tea. Second edition of our trip in the boat. Misery. 4 p.m.—Blowing a hurricane; sea frightful; vessel labouring, and straining immensely; if not very strong she cannot stand this long; consider her in a highly dangerous situation. Just taken in mainsail and jib, and set a small boat's sail, under which she feels somewhat easier; but if one of the high seas that are coming round her in every direction falls on board, she is gone; it would knock her into ten thousand pieces. Frightful. Midnight: at 6 p.m. the gale began to moderate, and, fortunately, the sea quickly followed suit. We set the mainsail, but carried away the traveller, and tore the sail. 8 p.m.—The wind came from the S.W., and continues very light, but sufficient to keep her steady, while the sea is rapidly running down; hope soon to be able to make her stretch her legs again. She has weathered this storm bravely, and without sustaining any visible damage about the hull. Surprising what these little vessels will stand: but she is an amazingly good sea-boat, rides like a sea-gull, and holds her ground well. Bravo, 'Flying Scud!'
