FullReads

At noon locked up the women and turned the lion loose; he didn’t find the pug, but found most everything else; smashed some bird cages and a raven and dove got away; dove came back at sundown, but the raven didn’t; let all the birds out to get the air and roost up aloft.

Sat., 47 days out. Chicken missing this morning; suspect Ham of stealing it–A pigeon fluttered down on deck with a green leaf fast in its gullet and half choked; pulled leaf out; pigeon must have been somewhere else and got it; will keep to the eastward and look out for land.

Tues., 50 days out. Blowing great guns, and dismasted; under double reefs, storm spanker, and foretopmast staysail at daylight; blew away the staysail; set jib; that went too and took jibboom; cut away the wreck; she came up to the wind, caught aback, and away went the mizzenmast at the deck; cut that away, paid off in the trough of the sea, and rolled the fore and mainmast out; cleared away everything, rigged out a sea anchor, and now were riding it out comfortable–that is, for us; women are all sick.

Land to the eastward, small island.

60 days out. Land still in sight; gets bigger; suppose the water is going down; nothing to do now but eat, sleep, and hunt for that pug–Still riding at the sea anchor.

100 days out. Pug must be dead–More land showing up.

150 days out. Noon–Driving on a lee shore stern foremost; getting anchors ready; sundown–let go both anchors as we got close in; dragged, and here we are, with every sea making a clean sweep over us; ark won’t last long; getting out liferaft and turning animals loose.

Next morning. Floated ashore all right; ark is breaking up and animals swimming in; last to come were that missing pug and seven half-grown pups; submit to the will of Providence, but still think women had the durned brute hid in the lower hold.

Next day. Poor place to live on this island–Nothing grown, but a grapevine I found on the beach; will take care of it; it means grapes, and grapes mean juice, and it’s been a long time between drinks–Ham is quite useful now; takes a deep interest in the vine and helps me ‘tend it.

Month later. Grapevine is doing well.

Four months later. Grapes appearing.

Two months later. Picked the grapes; now for some wine–Ham is a model boy; did him good to rope’s-end him.

Five months later. Wine has worked; will serve grog to-morrow and celebrate the anniversary of our shipwreck.

Next day. (The manuscript of this last day’s entry is obscure, and so incoherent, as to make it strongly probable that Captain Noah served the grog as indicated, and that he wrote while under the influence of the same. There are, however, some legible references to certain “pugs” which would go to show that he still had those animals in mind and perhaps regretted his failure to effect their extinction.–Translator.)