Even under
close-reefed canvas we had a most uneasy night, racing along at from
ten to twelve knots an hour.
_Saturday, February 24th_.--We were rushing along, literally _through_
the water all day, for there was plenty of it on deck--not really any
great quantity, but sufficient to make everything wet and
uncomfortable.
At 1.35 we made the island of Ockseu, a capital land-fall, and very
satisfactory in every way; for the sky was too much overcast to get an
observation, and the currents hereabouts are strong and variable.
During the night the wind fell light, but we maintained a speed of
from nine to ten knots.
_Sunday, February 25th_.--A much finer day. At 8 a.m. we had run 299
knots since the same time yesterday. We met a large steamer and passed
a brigantine; also several Chinese junks. About twelve o'clock we saw
a flag being waved frantically from a junk not far from us. At first
we thought something was wrong with them; but soon a small boat put
off with three men, and we found, on its arrival alongside, that it
contained a pilot anxious for a job. He was very disappointed that we
would not let him come on board; but Tom always likes doing the
pilotage himself. The boat was a rough wash-tub kind of affair, not
much better than those used by the inhabitants of Tierra del Fuego and
Patagonia.
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