Sunday, 27—­Commenced our labor, for which I know we need offer no apology.  We took the two planks, which were about fourteen feet long, and two and a half wide, and fixed them together for the bottom of the boat; then with moulds made of palmetto bark, cut timber and knees from mangrove trees which spread so much as to make the boat four feet wide at the top, placed them exactly the distance apart of an Havana sugar box.—­Her stern was square and the bows tapered to a peak, making her form resemble a flat-iron.  We proceeded thus far and returned to rest for the night—­but Mr. Bracket was too unwell to get much sleep.

Monday, 28—­Went on with the work as fast as possible.  Some of the Spaniards had long knives about them, which proved very useful in fitting timbers, and a gimblet of mine, accidentally found on board the pirate, enabled us to use the wooden pins.  And now our spirits began to revive, though water, water, was continually in our minds.  We now feared the pirates might possibly come, find out our plan and put us to death, (although before we had wished to see them, being so much in want of water.) Our labor was extremely burdensome, and the Spaniards considerably peevish—­but they would often say to me “never mind captain, by and by, Americana or Spanyola catch them, me go and see ’um hung.”  We quitted work for the day, cooked some cakes but found it necessary to reduce the quantity again, however small before.  We found some herbs on a windward Key, which the Spaniards called Spanish tea.—­This when well boiled we found somewhat palatable, although the water was very salt.  This herb resembles pennyroyal in look and taste, though not so pungent.  In the evening when we were setting round the fire to keep of the moschetoes, I observed David Warren’s eyes shone like glass.  The mate said to him—­“David I think you will die before morning—­I think you are struck with death now.”  I thought so too, and told him, “I thought it most likely we should all die here soon; but as some one of us might survive to carry the tidings to our friends, if you have any thing to say respecting your family, now is the time.”—­He then said, “I have a mother in Saco where I belong—­she is a second time a widow—­to-morrow if you can spare a scrap of paper and pencil I will write something.”  But no tomorrow came to him.—­In the course of the night he had another spell of strangling, and soon after expired, without much pain and without a groan.  He was about twenty-six years old.—­How solemn was this scene to us!  Here we beheld the ravages of death commenced upon us.  More than one of us considered death a happy release.  For myself I thought of my wife and children; and wished to live if God should so order it, though extreme thirst, hunger and exhaustion had well nigh prostrated my fondest hopes.