"I desire also hereby to appoint Henry Thornton, Sen., Esq., of Holby Pembroke, Solicitor, my executor and the guardian of my son Courtenay, to whom I bequeath a father's blessing and all that I possess. Let him try to secure my money in Cape Town for my boy, and, if possible, to regain for him the four thousand pounds which Potts has carried off.
"Along with this manuscript I also inclose the strangling cord.
"July 28.--Since I wrote this there has been a series of tremendous storms. The weather has cleared up again. I have seen no land and no ship.
"July 31.--Land to-day visible at a great distance on the south. I know not what land it may be. I can not tell in what direction I am drifting.
"August 2.--Land visible toward the southwest. It seems like the summit of a range of mountains, and is probably fifty miles distant.
"August 5.--A sail appeared on the horizon. It was too distant to perceive me. It passed out of sight.
"August 10.--A series of severe gales. The sea always rolls over the brig in these storms, and sometimes seems about to carry her down.
"August 20.--Storms and calms alternating. When will this end?
"August 25.--Land again toward the west. It seems as though I may be drifting among the islands of the Indian Archipelago.
"September 2.--I have been sick for a week. Unfortunately I am beginning to recover again. A faint blue streak in the north seems like land.
"September 23.--A series of storms. How the brig can stand it I can not see. I remember Potts telling me that she was built of mahogany and copper-fastened. She does not appear to be much injured. I am exceedingly weak from want and exposure. It is with difficulty that I can move about.
"October 2.--Three months adrift. My God have mercy on me, and make haste to deliver me! A storm is rising. Let all Thy waves and billows overwhelm me, O Lord!
"October 5.--A terrific storm. Raged three days. The brig has run aground. It is a low island, with a rock about five miles away. Thank God, my last hour is at hand. The sea is rushing in with tremendous violence, hurling sand upon the brig. I shall drift no more. I can scarcely hold this pen. These are my last words. This is for Ralph Brandon. My blessing for my loved son. I feel death coming. Whether the storm takes me or not, I must die.