I may not rest tonight. The storms of sea and wave delight to drive my ship of canvas sail onward forward with the gale.
In my explorations of Java we found the wild man that the Aboriginals call the Orang Pendic. Their stature was that of a muscular man, with wide flat nose and hair upon their entire body. We shot one and packed the skull in salt after boiling. Later it was lost when a mishap overturned our canoe.
As we voyaged the waters off Australia Felix we came across a pod of blue whales. The captain used his glass, but didn’t send the boats or give chase. His obsession for the White Whale was growing stronger day by day.
As we rounded Cape Hope the storm hit hard and we were driven towards the rocks. The Flying Dutchman then appeared and sailed before us. Earlier that day we had taken the mail for the captain of another vessel. I and one old man survived the wreck, and faced the prospect of death by many agents.
In deepest Africa we headed North until we reached Lake Victoria. Livingston had been in the district, but was there no longer. We found the heart of Africa almost devoid of all populace, villages had not a single person in them, where as the year before all were full with people.