Friday June 2nd Barque Sarah.
I awoke this morning, supposing myself happy and before I finished dressing learned the inconstancy of earthly bliss: I retired to the bumpkin aft until Mr Adams carried me by main force to the waist and there I sat all day long, utterly wretched. I could hardly hold my head up. Mrs Robertson & Townsend shared my misery and the Jewesses were in the last stage. Have been beating against headwinds all day with no apparent progress. “Who would sell a farm and go to sea”, Have existed on Dr Robertson’s beef, tea and oranges. Robertson & Townsend are looking over the ropes and [?] them.