M. lowered the propeller, and went ahead
under steam. Passed within about four miles of Direction Island at 5.15
P.M.

_Monday, Nov. 23rd_.--At 8 A.M. made Seraia.

_Thursday, Nov. 26th_.--Lat. 5.36; Long. 111.42, or within fifty miles
of dangerous ground, towards which the current is setting us. No
anchoring ground. 47 fathoms. After noon, the calm still continuing, let
go a kedge in 50 fathoms of water--mud--and veered to 150 fathoms.

_Friday, Nov. 27th_.--Noon. The struggle against the current is hopeless
in the death-like calm that prevails, and so we have come-to again with
the kedge.

_Sunday, Nov. 29th_.--After five days of dead calm, we took the monsoon
this morning at daylight, settling in lightly, and at 9 A.M. we got
under way, and stood to the northward and westward.

_Thursday, Dec, 3rd_.--At daylight we discovered a small vessel at
anchor near the head of the harbour of the Island of Condore, with
French colours, and awnings and other indications of her being a vessel
of war. Sent a boat in to examine water. Boat returned at 1 P.M. with
the commander of the vessel--a French vessel of war--and I was quite
surprised to learn that we had arrived in civilized waters, and that the
Island of Condore was in the possession of the French. There was a small
garrison of 50 or 60 at the village on the east side. There had been a
recent revolt of the natives, the French officers said; and for this
reason there were few vegetables or fruits to be had, and most of the
natives had betaken themselves to the mountains. Got underway and ran
into the harbour, the Frenchman politely showing me the way, and
anchored in nine fathoms. Got a spring out, so as to present our port
broadside to any enemy that might be disposed to violate neutrality,
and, to save coal, permitted all the fires to go out. A couple of ships,
running before the wind, passed in sight during the day--the ships
prudently running a little out of the track to sight the island in this
uncertain sea.

_Friday, December 4th._--The harbour is picturesque, with mountains
rising abruptly from the water to the height of 1800 feet, clothed with
dense verdure from water's edge to top, many of the trees being of large
size. The soil is very rich, but there is little cultivated land, the
mountain-sides being too steep. The French have constructed two or three
huts on the northern shore, and a couple of rude jetties, or landing
places of loose stone. Landed on one