“I cannot tell how much this meeting has depressed me.  Certainly I have no reason for disbelieving the man’s story, but the frequency and strangeness of our meetings make it hard to believe them altogether accidental.  I saw Railton in the afternoon:  he is greatly altered for the worse, and, I should think, had been drinking heavily before he shipped; but the captain was evidently too short of hands to be particular.  I think I will give the Concanens my tin box to hide in their cabin.  Of course I can trust them, and this will baffle theft; the clasp I will wear about me.  This is a happy idea; I will go to their cabin now and ask them.  It is 9.30 p.m., and the wind is still fair, I believe.

“July 20th.—­We have so far kept up an average speed of seven and a half knots an hour, and Captain Holding thinks we shall make even better sailing when the hands are more accustomed to their work.  I spend my time mostly with the Concanens—­who readily, by the way, undertook the care of my tin box—­and find them the most agreeable of fellow-travellers.  Mrs. Concanen has a very sweet voice, and her husband has learnt to accompany it on the guitar, so that altogether we spend very pleasant evenings.

“July 21st, 22nd, 23rd.—­The weather is still beautiful, and the breeze steady.  Last night, at about six in the evening, it freshened up, and we ran all night under reefed topsails in expectation of a squall; but nothing came of it.  I trust the wind will last, not only because it brings me nearer home, but also because without it the heat would be intolerable.  The mention of home leads me to say that Mrs. Concanen was most sympathetic when I spoke of Margery.  It is good to be able to talk of my wife to this kind creature, and she is so devoted to her husband that she plainly finds it easy to sympathise.  They are a most happy couple.

“July 24th.—­Our voyage, hitherto so prosperous, has been marred to-day by a sad accident.  Mr. Wilkins, the mate, was standing almost directly under the mainmast at about 4.30 this afternoon, when Railton, who was aloft, let slip a block, which descended on the mate’s head, striking it with fearful force and killing him instantly.  He was an honest, kindly man, to judge from the little I have seen of him, and, as Captain Holding assures me, an excellent navigator.  Poor Railton was dreadfully upset by the effects of his clumsiness; although I dislike the man, I have not the heart to blame him when I see the contrition upon his face.

“July 25th, midnight.—­We buried Wilkins to-day.  Captain Holding read the burial service, and was much affected, for Wilkins was a great friend of his; we then lowered the body into the sea.  I spent the evening with the Concanens, the captain being on deck and too depressed to receive consolation.  Nor was it much better with us in the cabin.  Although we tried to talk we were all depressed and melancholy, and I retired earlier than usual to write my Journal.