remained in the open can. The other he carried to his cabin.
When I left the deck just before beginning this writing the sailors were
huddled together forward and eagerly talking, but very quietly. The sea
was like a glass in which the stars of this strange southern sky were
all mirrored.

* * * * *

Again, impelled by I know not what power, I come to my journal. For what
strange eyes am I writing these words? I doubt whether I shall have
strength to put down the record that I feel ought to be put down.
Perhaps the power that impels me to write at all will give me the needed
strength. I have lost the reckoning of the days, but that matters not.
After writing the words with which my last entry closed I went to my
little cabin and was soon asleep. I was awakened by stealthy feet
without my door, followed by sounds of a struggle on deck, two or three
pistol shots, curses and groans and the trampling of feet. I jumped from
my bunk, threw on some clothing, and hurried out. The large cabin was in
total darkness. I rushed to the companion way. As I stepped upon the
deck I saw before me a struggling throng, and then there was a crash,
and I knew no more for a time. I know now that I was struck on the head
by one of the crew who had been watching for me. When I recovered
consciousness I was lying bound hand and foot on the deck. It was early
daylight, I struggled to rise, but could not stir. I saw the crew
carrying bags and casks and clothing and lowering them over the side.
Two or three forms lay on the deck, but I could not see who or what they
were. I recognized the boatswain's voice giving orders. He asked if
there was water enough and food, if the log and chronometer and
compasses had been stowed away. It was all confusion, and my brain
seemed on fire; but I knew that the crew were preparing to quit the
ship. Where was Uncle John, where was Captain Raymond, and where was
Helen? At this I again struggled and strove to rise, and the noise I
made attracted the boatswain and he came to me.

"You're fast enough, my lad," said he, smiling grimly. "Best lie quiet
and listen. Th' lads 'ave 'ad enough of this bediviled ship and the
witch that 'as bediviled 'er. So we're goin' to ship our cable and put
hoff. You seem so fond o' the witch that we'll leave you with 'er.
She'll care for thee, never fear," and he turned on his heel.

I tried to speak, but must have fainted with the effort. When I again