"If ever you come--or even if ever you don't come--to a desert place, use
you your eyes and your spy-glass well; for the smallest thing you see may
prove of use to you; and may have some information or some warning in it.
That's the principle on which I came to see this bottle. I picked up the
bottle and ran the boat alongside the island, and made fast and went
ashore armed, with a part of my boat's crew. We found that every scrap
of vegetation on the island (I give it you as my opinion, but scant and
scrubby at the best of times) had been consumed by fire. As we were
making our way, cautiously and toilsomely, over the pulverised embers,
one of my people sank into the earth breast-high. He turned pale, and
'Haul me out smart, shipmates,' says he, 'for my feet are among bones.'
We soon got him on his legs again, and then we dug up the spot, and we
found that the man was right, and that his feet had been among bones.
More than that, they were human bones; though whether the remains of one
man, or of two or three men, what with calcination and ashes, and what
with a poor practical knowledge of anatomy, I can't undertake to say. We
examined the whole island and made out nothing else, save and except
that, from its opposite side, I sighted a considerable tract of land,
which land I was able to identify, and according to the bearings of which
(not to trouble you with my log) I took a fresh departure. When I got
aboard again I opened the bottle, which was oilskin-covered as you see,
and glass-stoppered as you see. Inside of it," pursued the captain,
suiting his action to his words, "I found this little crumpled, folded
paper, just as you see. Outside of it was written, as you see, these
words: 'Whoever finds this, is solemnly entreated by the dead to convey
it unread to Alfred Raybrock, Steepways, North Devon, England.' A sacred
charge," said the captain, concluding his narrative, "and, Alfred
Raybrock, there it is!"
"This is my poor brother's writing!"
"I suppose so," said Captain Jorgan. "I'll take a look out of this
little window while you read it."
"Pray no, sir! I should be hurt. My brother couldn't know it would fall
into such hands as yours."
The captain sat down again on the foot of the bed, and the young man
opened the folded paper with a trembling hand, and spread it on the
table. The ragged paper, evidently creased and torn both before and
after being written on, was much blotted and stained, and the ink had
faded and run, and many words were wanting. What the captain and the
young fisherman made out together, after much re-reading and much
humouring of the folds of the paper, is given on the next page.
The young fisherman had become more and more agitated, as the writing had
become clearer to him. He now left it lying before the captain, over
whose shoulder he had been reading it, and dropping into his former seat,
leaned forward on the table and laid his face in his hands.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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