[Here follow a few jottings on weather and speed, which latter—­with the exception of five days during which the vessel lay becalmed—­ seems to have been very satisfactory.  On the 17th they caught a light breeze from N.E., and on the 19th passed Cape Verde.  Soon after this the Journal becomes connected again, and so continues.]

“Sept. 24th.—­Just after daybreak, went on deck, and found Captain Holding already there.  This man seems positively to require no sleep.  Since Wilkins’ death he has managed the navigation almost entirely alone.  He seemed unusually grave this morning, and told me that four of the hands had been taken ill during the night with violent attacks of vomiting, and were lying below in great danger.  He had not seen the doctor yet, but suspected that something was wrong with the food.  At this point the doctor joined us and took the captain aside.  They conversed earnestly for about three minutes, and presently I heard the captain exclaiming in a louder tone, ’Well, doctor, of course you know best, but I can’t believe it for all that.’  Shortly after the doctor went below again to look after his patients.  He was very silent when we met again at dinner, and I have not seen him since.

“Sept. 25th.—­One of the hands, Walters, died during the night in great agony.  We sighted the Peak of Teneriffe early in the afternoon, and I remained on deck with Mrs. Concanen, watching it.  The doctor is below, analysing the food.  I believe he is completely puzzled by this curious epidemic.

“Sept. 26th.—­Wind N.E., but somewhat lighter.  Three more men seized last night with precisely the same symptoms.  With three deaths and five men ill, we are now left with but nine hands (not counting the captain) to work the ship.  Walters was buried to-day.  I learned from Mrs. Concanen that her husband has made a post mortem examination of the body.  I do not know what his conclusions are.

“I open my Journal again to record another disquieting accident.  It is odd, but I have missed one of the pieces of my father’s clasp.  I am positive it was in my pocket last night.  I now have an indistinct recollection of hearing something fall whilst I was dressing this morning, but although I have searched both cabin and state-room thoroughly, I can find nothing.  However, even if it has fallen into Colliver’s hands, which is unlikely, he can make nothing of it, and luckily I know the words written upon it by heart.  Still the loss has vexed me not a little.  I will have another search before turning in to-night.

“Sept. 27th.—­Wind has shifted to N.W.  The doctor was summoned during the night to visit one of the men taken ill two nights before.  The poor fellow died before daybreak, and I hear that another is not expected to live until night.  The doctor has only been on deck for a few minutes to-day, and these he occupied in talk with the captain, who seems to have caught the prevailing depression, for he has been going about in a state of nervous disquietude all the afternoon.  I expect that want of sleep is telling upon him at last.  The clasp is still missing.