two boats left at St. Maria, (about forty miles distant,) which they were confident of finding.  They promised to return within two or three days for the rest of us—­I thought it best to consent—­Mr. Bracket it was agreed should go in my stead, because my papers must accompany me as a necessary protection, and my men apprehended danger if they were lost.  Joseph Baxter (I think was his name) they wished should go, because he could speak both languages—­leaving Manuel, George, Thomas and myself, to wait their return.  Having thus made all arrangements, and putting up a keg of the least salt water, with a few pancakes of salt fish, they set off a little before sunset with our best wishes and prayers for their safety and return to our relief.—­To launch off into the wide ocean, with strength almost exhausted, and in such a frail boat as this, you will say was very hazardous, and in truth it was; but what else was left to us?—­Their intention was to touch at the Key where the Exertion was and if no boat was to be found there, to proceed to St. Maria, and if none there, to go to Trinidad and send us relief.—­But alas! it was the last time I ever saw them!—­Our suffering this day was most acute.

Tuesday, 5th.—­About ten o’clock, A.M. discovered a boat drifting by on the southeastern side of the island about a mile distant.  I deemed it a providential thing to us, and urged Thomas and George trying the raft for her.  They reluctantly consented and set off, but it was nearly three P.M. when they came up with her—­it was the same boat we had built!  Where then was my friend Bracket and those who went with him?  Every appearance was unfavorable.—­I hoped that a good Providence had yet preserved him.—­The two men who went for the boat, found it full of water, without oars, paddle, or sail; being in this condition, and about three miles to the leeward, the men found it impossible to tow her up, so left her, and were until eleven o’clock at night getting back with the raft.  They were so exhausted, that had it not been nearly calm, they could never have returned.

Wednesday, 6th.—­This morning was indeed the most gloomy I had ever experienced.—­There appeared hardly a ray of hope that my friend Bracket could return, seeing the boat was lost.  Our provisions nearly gone; our mouths parched extremely with thirst; our strength wasted; our spirits broken, and our hopes imprisoned within the circumference of this desolate island in the midst of an unfrequented ocean; all these things gave to the scene around us the hue of death.  In the midst of this dreadful despondence, a sail hove in sight bearing the white flag!  Our hopes were raised, of course—­but no sooner raised than darkened, by hearing a gun fired.  Here then was another gang of pirates.  She soon, however, came near enough to anchor, and her boat pushed off towards us with three men in her.—­Thinking it now no worse to die by sword than famine, I walked down immediately to meet them.  I knew them not.—­A