And Then The Cry Of "Raise Tacks And Sheets" (Which I, In
Nautical Ignorance, Interpreted "Hay-Stacks And Sheep") Sent Many A
Sluggard From Their Berths To Bid A Last Farewell To The Banks Of The
Thames.
In the afternoon we parted company with our steam-tug, and next
morning, whilst off the Isle of Wight, our pilot also took his
departure.
Sea-sickness now became the fashion, but, as I cannot speak
from experience of its sensations, I shall altogether decline the
subject. On Friday, the 30th, we sighted Stark Point; and as the last
speck of English land faded away in the distance, an intense feeling of
misery crept over me, as I reflected that perchance I had left those
most dear to return to them no more. But I forget; a description of
private feelings is, to uninterested readers, only so much
twaddle, besides being more egotistical than even an account of
personal adventures could extenuate; so, with the exception of a few
extracts from my "log," I shall jump at once from the English Channel
to the more exciting shores of Victoria.
WEDNESDAY, MAY 5, lat. 45 degrees 57 minutes N., long. 11 degrees 45
minutes W. - Whilst off the Bay of Biscay, for the first time I had the
pleasure of seeing the phosphoric light in the water, and the effect was
indeed too beautiful to describe. I gazed again and again, and, as the
darkness above became more dense, the silence of evening more profound,
and the moving lights beneath more brilliant, I could have believed them
the eyes of the Undines, who had quitted their cool grottos beneath the
sea to gaze on the daring ones who were sailing above them.
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