(It's unclear who wrote this journal...)
Well, this is sticky pickle and no mistake. Must've hit my head really hard falling overboard, 'cost I've got no clue how I washed up here. S'pose there's no use crying about it. I've gathered up all the wood I can and set a fire to smoking. That's bound to catch an eye or two. It's a bit eerie, this place. Almost reminds me of the reef I stranded Rotten Roald on, so I could keep all the haul for my own two pockets. In fact, I could have sworn I already wrote all this down yesterday. Or was it the day before? Or the day before that? I can't rightly recall. Ship ahoy! Rescued at last... Cor, there's someone properly scary at the helm. Can't help but wonder what's underneath that mask...