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.
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