“After the mate became captain, things changed for the sailors. Before, we had a strict disciplinarian, but a kindly one. No sailor who did his duty had anything to complain of. After that we were in charge of a tyrant. Captain Richmond, for this was his title now, did not forget his experiences or animosities as mate. There were several whom he disliked, but I think he hated me the most. He would have abused me, but I knew his feelings, and did not give him a chance.

“I think he disliked me all the more on that account. I could see, by the way he looked at me at times, what hatred for me there was in his heart. I think he disliked me the more because, though only a common seaman, I had had a fine education, and he knew it. In that respect I was his superior.

“Well, about this time there came a storm. It was a very violent storm, unusual in that latitude, and it drove us out of our course very considerably. Instead of trying to get into the regular route for vessels bound to Bombay, Captain Richmond kept the ship in a northeasterly course till we struck the Agalegas Islands.

“What could be his reason I did not comprehend, but I soon understood only too well. He went on shore, taking myself and another of the crew with him. We kept on till we reached the woods. Then the captain took my companion with him, and bade me remain where I was on some pretext. He was to come for me later on.

“I waited unsuspectingly till I got tired. Then I ascended the hill, and to my dismay saw the Miranda—that was the name of our vessel—under full sail, bearing out to sea. In an instant the terrible truth flashed upon me. I had been left, helpless and alone, on this unknown island, with very little chance of ever leaving it, for it was not in the path of trading vessels.

“I was almost frantic when I realized what a fearful fate was reserved for me. I shrieked, I shook my fist at the receding vessel. I called down curses on the head of the fiend who had taken upon me this terrible revenge, or rather had inflicted upon me this unprovoked punishment, for I had done nothing to incur his hostility.

“But do what I would I could not recall the Miranda. What excuse the captain made for my absence I do not know; but though I had friends on board, there was no one who would dare take my part, or call him to account for his action.

“Four years have passed since then. They have been like forty. I have not starved, for the berries and fruits which the island affords, together with the fish I have been able to catch, have sustained me. But there was no one with whom I could hold converse—no one to whom I could speak, so it is a wonder I have not forgotten my native tongue.

“For a time I bore up, sustained by the hope that some vessel would touch at the island and carry me back to England. In the four years I have seen two ships, but I was unable to attract the attention of anyone on board.

“So hope died at last, and I have come to the conclusion that for me there is no release, no way of escape. I am forty-two years of age. Under ordinary circumstances I might hope to live thirty years longer. But what would life be on this island, cut off from human companionship? I would rather end it all, and have decided to do so. When I have completed this record I shall go to a cliff on the northern shore of the island, and fling myself into the sea. Whether any eye will read these lines, I cannot tell. I hope so. I hope that someone will learn the perfidious and cruel conduct of John Richmond, and pity his poor victim.

John Wolf.”

“I may as well record here an important discovery I chanced to make one day. It is of no use to me, but it may benefit the persons into whose hands this book may fall. At the north end of the island, about two hundred feet from the edge of the bluff, there is a group of trees arranged singularly in the shape of a cross. Between the second and third trees, at about eighteen inches from the surface, is a sailor’s chest, full of gold, silver, and jewels. I cannot estimate the value, but it must be large. I fancy it was hidden here by pirates. It must have been forgotten, however, for no one has visited it since I have been on this island.

If I could only get away, this treasure would make me rich. It is a tantalizing thought. As I am situated it is of no earthly use to me. Some time—it may be years hence—it will be found by some lucky person, perhaps by the one who reads this account, and it will make him rich. Such good fortune is not for me. If I could only escape from this island, which, charming as it is, I have learned to detest, I would be willing to live in abject poverty for the rest of my life. Wealth is far from my thoughts——”