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 useful, more especially your six bottles of arrowroot. I should not have survived the voyage without them. As long as my sea-sickness lasted arrowroot was the only thing I liked, and since that I have gone on with it regularly for luncheon, as I never have taken to meat at all. When anybody has been ill I have made a civility to them of a little arrowroot, but otherwise none of our party like it, so I have actually devoured the six bottlesful myself.

Monday, February 22. Still a foul wind, and we are not much nearer than we were four days ago. We tack every four hours, but gain very little by it. However, it is delicious weather—the nights are almost cold. We have come to our last sheep, and have but one pig and six geese left—no coffee, no marmalade, and no porter; and, as I said above, my arrowroot is at its last spoonful. Shocking hardships! We are all put on a short allowance of water, which is much more than we can drink; but next week, when we come to salt meat, and a still shorter allowance of water, the hunger and thirst will just match. Nobody now presumes to say when we shall