Editors Note: Between these dates the crew and passengers of the Buffalo settled into the humdrum daily life on board ship. From time to time there were incidents that caused comment from the Governor.
Concerts were held in the Aft cabin, where a badly tuned piano had been placed.
Hindmarsh commented:
Another evening of caterwauling women and plinkety plonkety pianoforte. On the programme last night my son John played some "contemporary music". Hummel, (like that german arse Beethoven only worse, if such a thing is possible); some songs (allegedly) by Schubert ( Mary assured me it was poetic, which confirmed my opinion of Mary's common sense) and some God awful nonsense from a talentless buffoon called Chopin. If this is what passes for music nowadays then give me a jig or a hornpipe.
A Sunday School was started:
Charlie Howard has enlisted Mary and Jane to help him establish a Sunday School for the fifty or so children we have on board. My thought is that if people (like the Fishers for example) are fool enough to bring children on a voyage such as this then they should shift for themselves and look after their brats rather than expect me to provide them with entertainment. Still I can be satisfied that if my daughters are keys to the Sunday School running then it won't last and then the lazy sods of parents can have the responsibility back for themselves.
A sailor died.
One of the crew died either of drink or old age, I am not sure. As Captain I assured the men of my respect for the deceased and joined with them in lamenting his passing. Then Charlie Howard committed him to the deep. I must find out his name so I spell it correctly in the ship's log.
The Reverend Howard displayed new talents
As if people were not suffering enough thanks to Charlie Howard's interminable sermons he has recently begun subjecting the poor devils to the horrors of his violin playing. And by playing I mean that sound ensues when he holds his violin under his chin and scrapes it with his bow.
The man plays like a thing possessed. Sadly, he is just not possessed of any talent.
He tells me that he hopes to use popular music to attract people to religion, but when I say that I complimented him for his excellent playing of "Rule Britannia" and he told me he was playing "Greensleeves" then it is understandable when I opine that the people who gather around him when he sits by the bowsprit and plays are not there for religion, but to see why the cat is being strangled.
He also tells me that he hopes to "connect with the youth", a phrase that, to the ears of this ex Cabin Boy, sounds particularly suspicious on the lips of a middle aged clergyman. When I demanded to know the name of the youth he was hoping to connect with he became most annoyed. It seems that the phrase is some nonsense the clergy say when a human being might say "get young people to come to divine service"
I think he needs to be watched.
There were occasional diversions.
Mr Hutchinson today suddenly leapt overboard today and retrieved a log of pinewood covered in barnacles. Much admiration from all on board. Either we have all turned simpleton or we are all bored rigid if a bit of driftwood with a few barnacles stuck to it can be the sinecure of all eyes. Mind you, I have found myself looking at Mrs Hindmarsh with renewed interest of late, so perhaps we have, indeed, been at sea for a little too long.
There were complaints.
The emigrants have complained that having the pig pens, the dog kennels, the cow byre and the poultry coops on the deck directly above their sleeping quarters, which, it seems are still full of cats, makes for an uncomfortable atmosphere in the enclosed space between decks. Well, I did warn them to get rid of those cats.
The Reverend Mr Howard preached every Sunday.
Charlie Howard could bore for his country.
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