not discernible—a vast expanse of high reeds stretching
as far as the eye can reach; course p.m. W.S.W.
At 4 p.m. the “ Clumsy,” as I have named one of our
noggors, suddenly carried away her mast close by the
board, the huge yard and rigging falling overboard
with the wreck, severely hurting two men and breaking
one of their guns. Hove to by an island on the
Shillook side, towed the wreck ashore, and assembled
all the boats. Fortunately there is timber at h and;
thus I cut down a tree for a mast and got all ready
for commencing repairs to-morrow. Poor Johann is,
as I had feared, dying; he bleeds from the lungs,
and is in the last stage of exhaustion. Posted six
sentries.
30th Dec,—Johann is in a dying state, but sensible;
all his hopes, poor fellow, of saving money in
my service and returning to Bavaria are past. I sat
by his bed for some hours; there was not a ray o f
hope; he could speak with difficulty, and the flies,
walked across his glazed eyeballs without his knowledge..
Gently bathing his face and hands, I asked
him if I could deliver any message to his relatives.
He faintly uttered, “1 am prepared to die; I have
neither parents nor relations; but there is one—she”
—he faltered. He could not finish his sentence, but
his dying thoughts were with one he loved; far, far
away from this wild and miserable land, his spirit was
transported to his native village, and to the object
that made life dear to him. Did not a shudder pass
over her, a chill warning at that sad moment when
all was passing away? I pressed his cold hand, and
asked her name. Gathering his remaining strength
he murmured, “ Krombach ” . . . “ Es bleibt nur zu
sterben.” “ Ich bin sehr dankbar.” These were the
last words he spoke, “ I am very grateful.” I gazed
sorrowfully at his attenuated figure, and at the now
powerless hand that had laid low many an elephant
and lion, in its day of strength; and the cold sweat
of death lay thick upon his forehead. Although the
pulse was not yet still, Johann was gone.
31s£ Dec.—Johann died. I made a huge cross with
my own hands from the trunk of a tamarind tree, and
by moonlight we laid him in his grave in this lonely
spot.
“ No useless coffin enclosed his breast,
Nor in sheet nor in shroud we wound him ;
But he lay like a pilgrim taking his rest,
With his mantle drawn around him.”
This is a mournful commencement of the voyage.
Poor fellow, I did all I could for him although that
was but little ; and hands far more tender than mine
* K r o m b a c h was merely the name of his native village in Bavaria.