ions of last night were not
fulfilled, as the wind died away again, and we are lying now in a long
greasy swell, ruffled here and there by a fleeting catspaw which is
insufficient to fill the sails. The air is colder than it was yesterday,
and I have put on one of the thick woollen jerseys which my wife knitted
for me. Harton came into my cabin in the morning, and we had a cigar
together. He says that he remembers having seen Goring in Cleveland,
Ohio, in '69. He was, it appears, a mystery then as now, wandering
about without any visible employment, and extremely reticent on his own
affairs. The man interests me as a psychological study. At breakfast
this morning I suddenly had that vague feeling of uneasiness which comes
over some people when closely stared at, and, looking quickly up, I
met his eyes bent upon me with an intensity which amounted to ferocity,
though their expression instantly softened as he made some conventional
remark upon the weather. Curiously enough, Harton says that he had
a very similar experience yesterday upon deck. I observe that Goring
frequently talks to the coloured seamen as he strolls about--a trait
which I rather admire, as it is common to find half-breeds ignore their
dark strain and treat their black kinsfolk with greater intolerance than
a white man would do. His little page is devoted to him, apparently,
which speaks well for his treatment of him. Altogether, the man is a
curious mixture of incongruous qualities, and unless I am deceived in
him will give me food for observation during the voyage.

The Captain is grumbling about his chronometers, which do not register
exactly the same time. He says it is the first time that they have ever
disagreed. We were unable to get a noonday observation on account of the
haze. By dead reckoning, we have done about a hundred and seventy miles
in the twenty-four hours. The dark seamen have proved, as the skipper
prophesied, to be very inferior hands, but as they can both manage the
wheel well they are kept steering, and so leave the more experienced men
to work the ship. These details are trivial enough, but a small thing
serves as food for gossip aboard ship. The appearance of a whale in the
evening caused quite a flutter among us. From its sharp back and forked
tail, I should pronounce it to have been a rorqual, or "finner," as they
are called by the fishermen.

October 19.--Wind was cold, so I prudently remained in my cabin all day,
only creep