of the time we had to steer east-south-east and then
west-north-west, and so on. This morning we were all startled by a
cry of 'SAIL HO!' Sure enough, we could see it! And for a time we
cut adrift from the second mate's boat, and steered so as to
attract its attention. This was about half-past five A.M. After
sailing in a state of high excitement for almost twenty minutes we
made it out to be the chief mate's boat. Of course we were glad to
see them and have them report all well; but still it was a bitter
disappointment to us all. Now that we are in the trades it seems
impossible to make northing enough to strike the isles. We have
determined to do the best we can, and get in the route of vessels.
Such being the determination, it became necessary to cast off the
other boat, which, after a good deal of unpleasantness, was done,
we again dividing water and stores, and taking Cox into our boat.
This makes our number fifteen. The second mate's crew wanted to
all get in with us, and cast the other boat adrift. It was a very
painful separation.
So these isles that they have struggled for so long and so hopefully have to be given up. What with lying birds that come to mock, and isles that are but a dream, and 'visions of ships that come to naught,' it is a pathetic time they are having, with much heartbreak in it. It was odd that the vanished boat, three days lost to sight in that vast solitude, should appear again. But it brought Cox—we can't be certain why. But if it hadn't, the diarist would never have seen the land again.
(Diary entry) Our chances as we go west increase in regard to being
picked up, but each day our scanty fare is so much reduced. Without
the fish, turtle, and birds sent us, I do not know how we should
have got along. The other day I offered to read prayers morning and
evening for the captain, and last night commenced. The men,
although of various nationalities and religions, are very attentive,
and always uncovered. May God grant my weak endeavour its issue!
Latitude, May 24, 14 degrees 18 minutes N. Five oysters apiece for
dinner and three spoonfuls of juice, a gill of water, and a piece of
biscuit the size of a silver dollar. 'We are plainly getting
weaker—God have mercy upon us all!' That night heavy seas break
over the weather side and make everybody wet and uncomfortable
besides requiring constant baling.
Next day 'nothing particular happened.' Perhaps some of us would have regarded it differently. 'Passed a spar, but not near enough to see what it was.' They saw some whales blow; there were flying-fish skimming the seas, but none came aboard. Misty weather, with fine rain, very penetrating.
Latitude, May 26, 15 degrees 50 minutes. They caught a flying-fish and a booby, but had to eat them raw. 'The men grow weaker, and, I think, despondent; they say very little, though.' And so, to all the other imaginable and unimaginable horrors, silence is added—the muteness and brooding of coming despair. 'It seems our best chance to get in the track of ships with the hope that some one will run near enough to our speck to see it.' He hopes the other boards stood west and have been picked up. (They will never be heard of again in this world.)
(Diary entry) Sunday, May 27, Latitude 16 degrees 0 minutes 5
seconds; longitude, by chronometer, 117 degrees 22 minutes. Our
fourth Sunday! When we left the ship we reckoned on having about
ten days' supplies, and now we hope to be able, by rigid economy, to
make them last another week if possible.(1) Last night the sea was
comparatively quiet, but the wind headed us off to about
west-north-west, which has been about our course all day to-day.
Another flying-fish came aboard last night, and one more to-day
—both small ones. No birds. A booby is a great catch, and a good
large one makes a small dinner for the fifteen of us—that is, of
course, as dinners go in the 'Hornet's' long-boat. Tried this
morning to read the full service to myself, with the Communion, but
