On the 29th of July we went for ship, it was evening and getting dark when we reached the open seas and a storm arose. I shall never forget that time, I had never looked at death in the face so closely than then. Only a bit more and we would have sunk, and it drove us far out into the open sea, luckily the storm soon stopped and a pale moon shone and showed us the way to our island.
The barracks stood on a rocky ridge that reached into the sea. At the end of the jetty stood an old Spanish fortress, and right next to it two graves with plain wooden crosses with the inscription: “Wolf and Kornel, Americans killed by bloodthirsty Moros.”