6 August. Another three days have passed, and there is no news. It is a dreadful feeling, waiting for something to happen. I would feel better, if I only knew where to write to or where to go to. But no-one has heard a word about Jonathan since that last letter. I can only pray for patience.

Lucy is more excitable than ever, but otherwise she is well. Last night the weather was threatening. The fishermen say that a big storm is coming. I must try to watch it and learn about the weather here. Today is a gray day. As I write the sun is hidden in thick, high clouds.

Everything is gray except the green grass, which seems like emerald. There is gray rock and gray clouds, though these are lightened by the sun at the far edge. The clouds are over a gray sea. The sandbanks in the sea are also gray. The sea is roaring in over the shallow water and the sand. However, you cannot hear it clearly because the sound is made softer by the mist coming in off the sea.