At sunset on the 8th of June the look-out sighted from hiscrow's-nest a British convoy sailing along the coast towards thesouth-east. To avoid it we altered our course during the night. We werealso given orders not to put our lights on in the great cabin so that we would not be seen from afar. We constantly had to usedark-lanterns to make our observations of the sea's temperature, or readthe markings on our astronomical instruments. In the torrid zone, where twilight lasts a few minutes, we were condemned to inaction, insimilar circumstances, from six in the evening. For me this wasparticularly irritating as I have never suffered from seasickness and nosooner am I on board than I feel the urge towork more than ever.

Near the town of Orotava we came across great flocks of canaries. These birds, well known in Europe, were in general uniformly green; some had a yellowish tinge on their backs; their song was the same as that of the domesticated canary. It has been noted that those canaries captured in the island of Gran Canaria, and in the islet of Monte Clara, near Lanzarote, have a louder, more harmonious call. In every zone, among birds of the same species, each flock has its peculiar call. The yellow canaries are a variety now breeding in Europe; those we saw in cages had been bought at Cadiz and other Spanish ports. But the bird from the Canary Islands that has the most agreeable song is unknown in Europe. It is the capirote, which has never been tamed, so much does he love his freedom. I have enjoyed his sweet and melodious warbling in a garden in Orotava, but have never seen him close enough to judge what family he belongs to. As for the parrots supposedly seen during Captain Cook's stay at Tenerife, they never existed but in the narratives of some travelers who have copied from each other.