sea has gone down somewhat, although it is still too high for comfort, as we have an occasional reminder that water is wet.  The sun has been out all day, and so we have had a good drying.  I have been trying for the last ten or twelve days to get a pair of drawers dry enough to put on, and to-day at last succeeded.  I mention this to show the state in which we have lived.  If our chronometer is anywhere near right, we ought to see the American Isles to-morrow or next day.  If there are not there, we have only the chance, for a few days, of a stray ship, for we cannot eke out the provisions more than five or six days longer, and our strength is failing very fast.  I was much surprised to-day to note how my legs have wasted away above my knees:  they are hardly thicker than my upper arm used to be.  Still, I trust in God’s infinite mercy, and feel sure he will do what is best for us.  To survive, as we have done, thirty-two days in an open boat, with only about ten days’ fair provisions for thirty-one men in the first place, and these divided twice subsequently, is more than mere unassisted human art and strength could have accomplished and endured.

     Bread and raisins all gone.—­Captain’s Log.

Men growing dreadfully discontented, and awful grumbling and unpleasant talk is arising.  God save us from all strife of men; and if we must die now, take us himself, and not embitter our bitter death still more.—­Henry’s Log.

[Diary entry] June 5.  Quiet night and pretty comfortable day, though our sail and block show signs of failing, and need taking down—­which latter is something of a job, as it requires the climbing of the mast.  We also had news from forward, there being discontent and some threatening complaints of unfair allowances, etc., all as unreasonable as foolish; still, these things bid us be on our guard.  I am getting miserably weak, but try to keep up the best I can.  If we cannot find those isles we can only try to make north-west and get in the track of Sandwich Island-bound vessels, living as best we can in the meantime.  To-day we changed to one meal, and that at about noon, with a small ration or water at 8 or 9 A.M., another at 12 A.M., and a third at 5 or 6 P.M.

     Nothing left but a little piece of ham and a gill of water, all
     around.—­Captain’s Log.

They are down to one meal a day now—­such as it is—­and fifteen hundred miles to crawl yet!  And now the horrors deepen, and, though they escaped actual mutiny, the attitude of the men became alarming.  Now we seem to see why that curious incident happened, so long ago; I mean Cox’s return, after he had been far away and out of sight several days in the chief mate’s boat.  If he had not come back the captain and the two young passengers might have been slain, now, by these sailors, who were becoming crazed through their sufferings.

     Note secretly passed by Henry to his brother: