The manuscript sent forth.

Perseverance Island, South Pacific,

January, 1877.

I have decided. I am no longer in doubt. My mind is fully made up as to the course I must take, and that it is of no use for me to remain upon this island fretting my life away. I must escape, I must have companionship, and I must choose. Each method presented to my mind has its advantages, and I have long been in doubt which to adopt: but the struggle is ended; I have fully made up my mind, and shall not swerve from it. If I should try to escape I have the following methods open to me: First, the submarine boat. If I should decide to use that method, I should, in the first place, have to build a much larger one, with room for provisions and bed; and, being larger, it would be propelled much slower by goat power, for I could not utilize a steam-engine on account of the oxygen it would eat up, and the necessary space that would be needed for fuel. Now to build another, and larger boat, would take time and patience, and would be practically useless when built; so I dismissed this from my mind. The one I now had was too small to carry provisions for myself and goats, enough to last any great length of time; and the whole fabric was too crude to trust myself in for a voyage of any length, supposing, even, that I could carry in it sufficient food to sustain life. There was one principle, however, in the submarine boat that I hated to give up, and that was the perfect safety from storms on the surface: these I could escape at all times,—and, again, I should never lose in the night-time what I made in the day. There would be no drifting back, before the wind, whilst I was asleep, but by descending from the surface at night I should rest peacefully till morning, subject only to the slow drift of any ocean current that I might encounter. In stormy weather also I could always keep on my way in perfect calm, beneath the surface, without resistance of any kind except the friction of the water. These points were strongly in my favor; but I could not see any way to utilize them. One great impediment would be the want of air. If I should have to remain below the surface for any length of time beyond a few hours, I should have to keep to work preparing and introducing new air. Then, if my steering apparatus should get out of order, it would be difficult to repair it, and if my goats should die, or become sick, I should be utterly without any means of locomotion, and liable to be left drifting about in mid-ocean till death ended my troubles. No; after long and anxious consultation with myself, I was forced to give up all idea of using my submarine boat, and, having so decided, put it wholly and completely out of my mind, and did not allow myself to think of it again in connection with my escape. This gave my mind relief to concentrate itself upon the second means of escape, namely, the steam yacht.

Here I was again puzzled. There was a great deal in its favor. I should, of course, have to sleep, and during my sleep I should go to leeward, before the wind, without reckoning of where I should bring up. I felt that I could stop this drifting, to a degree, by making a sort of bag of canvas, to be submerged in the ocean to a certain depth to which the yacht could be anchored, so to speak, during the night. She would, of course, still drift, but not one-quarter as much as she would without it. Such an anchor was often used successfully, as I well knew, in larger vessels, in gales of wind, to keep them head to sea, and to prevent them drifting so rapidly to leeward before the blast as they would without it. If I should risk this drifting I might also be exposed to all kinds of weather and gales of wind to which my little boat was hardly equal. I felt confident that she would not be safe in a heavy seaway, and, if the machinery should break down, I should be reduced to sails alone, which I could only handle in the daytime, and which, in any sudden squall, might cause my being capsized for want of assistance in taking them in. No; I knew the risk was too great. I might never see land for months, if at all, if my machinery should give out so as to compel me to use sails, which would often become unmanageable by myself alone. No, I must give this idea up; and I did so.

I next turned my thoughts to a catamaran boat, or life raft,—something upon hollow cylinders, that could not capsize, and upon which I should feel sure of being safe, as far as any fear I might have of the ocean. This seemed more feasible than anything yet,—slow, to be sure, but more safe than any of the foregoing. I had here the danger of being washed off such a raft, the discomforts of being forced to go without fire during any gale of wind, and to be utterly unable to advance, with any great speed, towards my place of destination, unless the wind should be, by chance, favorable. By this third method I should, in reality, be exposed upon an open raft to the winds of heaven, for how long a time God only knew. That I should suffer infinitely I felt certain. I was too old not to see plainly just what I should have to go through with to put to sea in such a vessel. I knew that it had been done, and that just such rafts had crossed the Atlantic after many weary days of passage, and others had started that were called life rafts,—and believed so to be both by practical and scientific men, who had examined them before their departure,—which had never been heard of again. No, I would not trust myself to the mercies of the sea in this manner, and exchange my pleasant island for its dangers.

My last chance of escape was by my flying-machine, and the many things in its favor tempted me greatly, and at one time I thought that they had overcome in my mind the danger. I could easily construct one of these machines, that would take into the air both myself, my two goats, provisions, spare sulphuric acid and steel filings to make new gas, and if my machinery would work I could escape in safety, I felt convinced. I could, as I have said, make new gas, even when on my voyage; and if I should use up all my sand-bags, and needed more ballast, I had only to let down a bucket into the ocean, attached to a long line, and pull up as much water as I might need to overcome the buoyancy of any new gas I might make. I might, also, if a favorable wind should commence, fly like a bird towards the continent of South America. But, on the other hand, if a gale should arise, I might, if one of my fragile propellers should become broken, be hurled before the blast till I floated above the vast ocean far beyond the reach of mortal aid. If I dared trust my machinery this would be the way I should make my attempt; but I did not feel that I had the right to risk my life in this manner, or by any of the above methods, till I had exhausted all means of making the outside world come to me. Therefore, after due and serious consideration, I made up my mind firmly not to try to escape by any of the above plans, or by any means, till I had tried the other alternative.

This decision having once been firmly made, I felt that more than half my task was already done; for it was this shilly-shallying that was undoing me. Anything was better than to waste my life in this useless wavering. What good to me was all my wealth unless I could utilize it? and to do so I must run some risks, and the quicker I undertook them the quicker I should be put out of my pain and misery if my plans were to be successful, and the more years I should have to enjoy my princely revenues. I could not better affairs by any act of mine. It was all in the hands of God, and I might as well now, as at any time, give myself up to what He might order for the best.

Having thus made up my mind to let my position be known to the outside world, and to ask for assistance and aid, I had next to settle upon the best plan. If I should send up, daily, one or more small balloons, with a piece of parchment attached, giving the latitude and longitude of the island and asking for rescue, I ran several risks. In the first place, I was well aware that in these days, on board steamers, with passengers especially, anything and everything was thought of to pass away an idle hour, and that albatrosses, when caught, were fitted out often with letters and legends tied to their feet; that, in sport, bottles were often thrown overboard containing fables and yarns of shipwreck and disaster, and I was very much afraid that, if one of my balloons should be picked up, it would be taken as a hoax, as the first thing would be to examine the chart, and no island would be found to exist where I now write these lines. Besides, if anybody should pick up one of my balloons, which at sea was improbable, it would, I fear, be taken little account of. For, although I might send up hundreds, the chance of their falling into the water so as to be seen by any vessel, in the daytime, near enough to be distinguished from a nautilus, was extremely and infinitesimally small. No, I had little hope in this direction. On the other hand, should they reach land, the chart would show that there was no known land in the direction specified, and the whole thing would be taken as a hoax from the next neighboring town, and I felt sure no attention would be paid to it. And if any of them landed on the coast of South America, as was possible, and even probable, the English language, in which they would be written, would be so much Greek to the natives. On the other hand, should one of them be picked up by a vessel, and search made for the island, what guarantee had I that I would be allowed to preserve my treasure?

No! I felt that small balloons would be of little use to me, and, in fact, might do more harm than good. What should I do to prove that I was in earnest; that there was such an island, and that I was upon it, in person; and that I needed help and assistance, which I could repay? Why, I felt convinced, by writing a history of all my sorrows, troubles, and tribulations, that would bear upon its face the impress of truth, would carry conviction to any mind that would read it, and would prove to the intellect of any one that it was not fiction, but truth, in all its majesty, never to be mistaken for the former.

This, I felt, was the only way to reach out towards a rescue, and it is for this purpose that all that has been herein set down has been penned. Having made my mind up firmly to this, I have written all the above, to be launched into space. Let me beg that my story may be believed, and that I may be rescued; let me ask of you, who find this, by God's grace, to weigh each word and sentence, and feel that you are reading no romance. I shall attach this to a balloon of size, so as to float long in the air, and to attract attention, if ever observed by any one, both by the strangeness of its make and these parchment sheets upon which I have written.

And now let me proclaim to the world the following,—for if this manuscript ever does come into the hands of anyone who intends to seek me out, let all that is contained therein be perfectly understood:—

PROCLAMATION.

In the name of God, Amen.—Be it known to all men, that I, William Anderson, a citizen of the United States of America, do here solemnly declare that I am the discoverer, and at this present the occupant, of an island in the South Pacific Ocean, which I have named Perseverance Island, and that said island lies in the latitude of 42° 21' S., and longitude 119° 11' 15 W. of Greenwich. That I was cast on shore, and miraculously saved by the goodness of God, on Nov. 10, 1865, and that I claim as my own, in the name of the United States, all this hitherto unknown island as my property, belonging to me and my heirs forever; and, inasmuch as I have discovered upon and about this island immense treasures, as recited in a narrative hereto annexed, I ask, demand, and pray for the protection of the United States, and hope that it will be deemed both fitting and proper to dispatch a man-of-war to protect me, for which assistance I am fully ready and capable of reimbursing the government for any outlay; and further, let it be well understood that I, the aforesaid William Anderson, will resist to the death any encroachment upon my property, by whomsoever made; and that for the protection of myself, my treasure, and my island, it is hereby plainly stated, all manner of instruments of defence have been made by me, the said William Anderson, and that the harbors of the island are strewed with torpedoes, and that it is highly dangerous to attempt to land upon any part of the island without intercourse with, and consent of, myself. And that there may be no mistake, and that I may know that if any that approach have seen this proclamation, and acknowledge my just claims and pity my long years of solitude and suffering, I issue the following set of signals, to be by them used in token of amity and that they come to me as friends, otherwise they will be treated as enemies; and although my wealth is great, as herein related, it is believed that pity for my sufferings will touch the heart of any in the civilized world, and I do look most for succor and comfort from the ships of war of the United States of America.

The signals to be made by any vessel approaching the island, which would be in safety, and rules for anchorage, etc., are the following, and must be strictly observed:—

If in the daytime, the vessel, if a steamer, will stand in to the mouth of Mirror Bay till the two iron discs on the mainland are in line, or nearly so, when she will anchor, in six fathoms of water, and then fire three guns, two from the starboard side, one from the port side, and then run up the colors of her nation to the mizzen peak. A sailing vessel will follow these orders except that greater license will be granted her in coming to in a line with the two discs.

If a vessel makes the island in the night-time, she will heave to, or stand off and on, and not attempt to approach, by boat or otherwise, at her peril, till the morning; keeping up, during the night, a red signal lantern at the fore, and firing one gun; when, in the morning, she can stand in under the rule preceding this, for daytime. Having anchored and signalled, the same will be answered by the occupant of the island by two guns from South Cape, when a boat can then come on shore, containing three persons, one officer and two seamen, who, if unarmed, will be allowed to land, and, if honest and true men, as is to be hoped, remuneration for all their trouble in seeking me out will be freely granted. But let it be distinctly understood that all my treasures, of both gold, silver, and pearls, are no longer hidden in the places described in my narrative, but have been removed, and carefully re-hidden, and that an attempt to take my life and possess one's self of my treasures will be futile, for their burying-place will never be known; and I shall resist all aggression with all my might and strength, and, if need be, give up my life in defending my treasure, that I have watched over for so many years.

In my lonely, solitude, with none but the hand of the ever-present Providence spread over to protect me, I sign the above proclamation as my will and desire.

William Anderson.

Perseverance Island, South Pacific, Jan. 10, 1877.

And now I have done. I am about to cast this manuscript to the winds of heaven, to be conveyed hence to where God shall think best. Let me beg that the subject-matter of the "Good Luck" may be published in the London newspapers, when attention may be brought to the case, and the old society may send for me, and believe in me much quicker than the outside world will.

I know but little French, but, to still further protect this manuscript I add these few lines, from what remains to me in memory, of the sailor's French that I once picked up, in Havre, in years gone by, so that this may not be thrown carelessly away if it falls into the hands of any who can speak that lingo.

AVIS.

Ne jetez pas cette papier; c'est Écrit en Anglais et est DE GRAND IMPORTANCE. Faites rendre en FranÇais, et vous trouverai une vraie historie d'or et de l'argent trouvÉ par moi sur une isle dans l'ocÉan Pacific.

I have no more to add. I have finished my story with regret. I am tying this manuscript together, and inflating the balloon that is to carry it where God wills.

I will believe in His justice, and await in patience His reply to my many prayers.

William Anderson.

THE MANUSCRIPT COMMITTED TO THE WINDS.—Page 372.]

L'ENVOI.

It may be interesting to call to the attention of those whose eyes it may have escaped, the following that appeared in the New York Herald of June 16, 1880:—

"In addition to our account of the wonderful story and succor of William Anderson, from his Pacific Island, with all his treasures, and his arrival at this port in the U. S. S. S. Tallapoosa, published in our last evening's edition, we have to state that, at a late hour, it was ascertained that this remarkable personage, who appears in excellent good health and spirits, will at once sail by one of the Cunarders for London to confer with his associates there, who were the originators of the "Good Luck" scheme. He states that, having no relatives, he shall, without doubt, expend the larger portion of his immense wealth for charitable purposes, and that it is very probable he may return to Perseverance Island, with a colony, there to end his days."