At Sea : St. Augustine
of summer lightning.
15. Friday. At sea all day. A strange
bird, supposed to be a stormy petrel (I
was in hopes it might prove an albatross)
hovered about us towards evening, and pre-
sently perched on our anchor. A great,
wild-looking bird, with a wild cry of its own,
who flew off when the sailors tried to catch
it. A bit of rough weather subsequently,
as we labored on in the intensely blue �gulf
stream.� A vessel passed close by us, du-
ring the night.
16. Saturday. A violent rain-storm
with thunder and lightning prevalent all
the morning and during the greater part of
the afternoon. We arrive off the harbor of
St. Augustine by 11 A.M. and lie off,
whistling (by steam proxy) for our former
Spanish pilot. He comes at last, and by
5 brings us to anchor in the river, oppo-
site the old town. Gen. Terry goes ashore,
then the purser, but nobody else. A visit
from Jarvis, the keeper of the sutler�s store
� where we got champagne before leaving.
A dark, wet, disagreeable day, head-
achy and slow.
17. Sunday. Letter-writing and loafing