Thursday Sep. 8/98. We were due at Vancouver very early this morning but yet a long way off. Early this morning, we were enveloped in a very dense fog & the engines were stopped about 4 a.m., & we lay practically motionless all the day, fog signal blowing at very short intervals. The atmosphere was disagreeable & damp, & all on board bemoaning the delay. As a passage of 21 days at sea produces monotony, & when laying motionless, & the uncertainty of the fog lifting, the feeling becomes cheerless & many being eager to get onwards, soon show signs of gloominess.[1] Personally, I don’t let the position concern me, knowing that there is no alternative but to patiently put up with it. The sun never penetrated at any time of the day, & the officers could not obtain the ship’s position. We heard many fog signals but nothing came within sight. It’s a very anxious time for the Captain & officers. A storm is more welcome than fog. After dark, many birds were hovering around the ship, many alighting on the ship. One dropped at my feet & I picked it up, a pretty creature it was, quite dove coloured, web footed & curved web.[2] Several were caught & all let off again. Soundings[3] were taken several times during the day & we were all interested thereby. A patent of Lord Kelvin’s[4] is in use on all the passenger steamers. Throwing the lead[5] is quite a different process.
[1] Inserted on facing page: “Fog. Discontent by some, being detained.”
[2] Inserted on facing page: “Bird on deck”.
[3] Depth soundings
[4] William Thomson, 1st Baron Kelvin, born in Belfast in 1824. Maker of electrical measurement instrumentation and deep-sea sounding machines.
[5] A process for determining sea depth by throwing a lead weighted line overboard.