“Sept. 28th.—­A rough day, and all hands busily engaged.  Wind mostly S.W., but shifted to due W. before nightfall.  Three of the invalids are better, but the other is still lying in a very critical state.

“Sept. 29th, 30th, Oct. 1st, 2nd.—­Weather squally, so that we may expect heavy seas in the Bay of Biscay.  All the invalids are by this time in a fair way of recovery, and one of them will be strong enough to return to work in a couple of days.  Doctor Concanen is still strangely silent, however, and the captain’s cheerfulness seems quite to have left him.  Oh, that this gloomy voyage were over!

“Oct. 3rd.—­Weather clearer.  Light breeze from S.S.W.

“Oct. 5th.—­Let me roughly put down in few words what has happened, not that I see at present any chance of leaving this accursed ship alive, but in the hope that Providence may thus be aided—­as far as human aid may go—­in bringing these villains to justice, if this Journal should by any means survive me.

“Last night, shortly before ten, I went at Doctor Concanen’s invitation to chat in his cabin.  The doctor himself was busily occupied with some medical works, to which, as his wife assured me, he had been giving his whole attention of late.  But Mrs. Concanen and I sat talking together of home until close upon midnight, when the baby, who was lying asleep at her side, awoke and began to cry.  Upon this she broke off her conversation and began to sing the little fellow to sleep.  ‘Home, Sweet Home’ was the song, and at the end of the first verse—­so sweetly touching, however hackneyed, to all situated as we—­the doctor left his books, came over, and was standing behind her, running his hands, after a trick of his, affectionately through her hair, when the native nurse, who slept in the next cabin and had heard the baby crying, came in and offered to take him.  Mrs. Concanen, however, assured her that it was not necessary, and the girl was just going out of the door when suddenly we heard a scream and then the captain’s voice calling, ’Trenoweth!  Doctor!  Help, help!’

“The doctor immediately rushed past the maid and up the companion.  I was just following at his heels when I heard two shots fired in rapid succession, and then a heavy crash.  Immediately the girl fell with a shriek, and the doctor came staggering heavily back on top of her.  Quick as thought, I pulled them inside, locked the cabin door, and began to examine their wounds.  The girl was quite dead, being shot through the breast, while Concanen was bleeding terribly from a wound just below the shoulder:  the bullet must have grazed his upper arm, tearing open the flesh and cutting an artery, passed on and struck the nurse, who was just behind.  Mrs. Concanen was kneeling beside him and vainly endeavouring to staunch the flow of blood.

“Oddly enough, the attack, from whatever quarter it came, was not followed up; but I heard two more shots fired on deck, and then a loud crashing and stamping in the fore part of the vessel, and judged that the mutineers were battening and barricading the forecastle.  I unlocked the door and was going out to explore the situation, when the doctor spoke in a weak voice—­