sailing south, in those places where the northeast winds and Scotch
mists come from! Thank Heaven, we got south, or we should have frozen to
death. We got into November, and we got into December. We were as far
south as 37 deg. 29'; and were in 31 deg. 17' west on New Year's Day,
1866, when the second officer wished me a happy new year, congratulated
me on the fine weather, said we should get a good observation, and asked
me for the new nautical almanac! You know they are only calculated for
five years. We had two Greenwich ones on board, and they ran out
December 31, 1865. But the government had been as stingy in almanacs as
in coal and compasses. They did not mean to keep the Confederacy in
almanacs.

That was the beginning of our troubles. I had to take the old almanac,
with Prendergast, and we figured like Cocker, and always kept ahead with
a month's tables. But somehow,--I feel sure we were right,--but
something was wrong; and after a few weeks the lunars used to come out
in the most beastly way, and we always proved to be on the top of the
Andes or in the Marquesas Islands, or anywhere but in the Atlantic
Ocean. Well then, by good luck, we spoke the Winged Batavian; could not
speak a word of Dutch, nor he a word of English; but he let Ethan copy
his tables, and so we ran for St. Sacrament. I posted 8, 9, and 10
there; I gave the Dutchman 7, which I hope you got, but fear.

Well, this story is running long; but at St. Sacrament we started again,
but, as ill-luck would have it, without a clean bill of health. At that
time I could have run into Bahia with coal--of which I had bought
some--in a week. But there was fever on shore,--and bad,--and I knew we
must make pratique when we came into the outer harbor here; so, rather
than do that, we stretched down the coast, and met that cyclone I wrote
you about, and had to put into Loando. Understand, this was the first
time we went into Loando. I have learned that wretched hole well enough
since. And it was as we were running out of Loando, that, in reversing
the engine too suddenly, lest we should smash up an old Portuguese
woman's bum-boat, that the slides or supports of the piston-rod just
shot out of the grooves they run in on the top, came cleverly down on
the outside of the carriage, gave that odious _g-r-r-r_, which I can
hear now, and then, _dump_,--down came the whole weight of the
walking-beam, bent rod and carriages all into three figure 8's, and
there we were