[Being an extract from the singular journal of JOHN M`ALISTER RAY,
student of medicine.]


September 11th.--Lat. 81 degrees 40' N.; long. 2 degrees E. Still
lying-to amid enormous ice fields. The one which stretches away to
the north of us, and to which our ice-anchor is attached, cannot be
smaller than an English county. To the right and left unbroken
sheets extend to the horizon. This morning the mate reported that
there were signs of pack ice to the southward. Should this form of
sufficient thickness to bar our return, we shall be in a position
of danger, as the food, I hear, is already running somewhat short.
It is late in the season, and the nights are beginning to reappear.

This morning I saw a star twinkling just over the fore-yard, the
first since the beginning of May. There is considerable discontent
among the crew, many of whom are anxious to get back home to be in
time for the herring season, when labour always commands a high
price upon the Scotch coast. As yet their displeasure is only
signified by sullen countenances and black looks, but I heard from
the second mate this afternoon that they contemplated sending a
deputation to the Captain to explain their grievance. I much doubt
how he will receive it, as he is a man of fierce temper, and very
sensitive about anything approaching to an infringement of his
rights. I shall venture after dinner to say a few words to him
upon the subject. I have always found that he will tolerate from
me what he would resent from any other member of the crew.
Amsterdam Island, at the north-west corner of Spitzbergen, is
visible upon our starboard quarter--a rugged line of volcanic
rocks, intersected by white seams, which represent glaciers. It is
curious to think that at the present moment there is probably no
human being nearer to us than the Danish settlements in the south
of Greenland--a good nine hundred miles as the crow flies. A
captain takes a great responsibility upon himself when he risks his
vessel under such circumstances. No whaler has ever remained in
these latitudes till so advanced a period of the year.

9 P.M,--I have spoken to Captain Craigie, and though the result has
been hardly satisfactory, I am bound to say that he listened to
what I had to say very quietly and even deferentially. When I had
finished he put on that air of iron determination which I have
frequently observed upon his face, and paced rapidly backwards and
forwards across the narrow cabin for some minutes. At first I
feared that I had seriously offended him, but he dispelled the idea
by sitting down again, and putting his hand upon my arm with a
gesture which almost amounted to a caress. There was a depth of
tenderness too in his wild dark eyes which surprised me
considerably. "Look here, Doctor," he said, "I'm sorry I ever took
you--I am indeed--and I would give fifty pounds this minute to see
you standing safe upon the Dundee quay. It's hit or miss with me
this time. There are fish to the north of us. How dare you shake
your head, sir, when I tell you I saw them blowing from the
masthead?"--this in a sudden burst of fury, though I was not
conscious of having shown any signs of doubt. "Two-and-twenty fish
in as many minutes as I am a living man, and not one under ten
foot.[1] Now, Doctor, do you think I can leave the country when
there is only one infernal strip of ice between me and my fortune?
If it came on to blow from the north to-morrow we could fill the
ship and be away before the frost could catch us. If it came on to
blow from the south--well, I suppose the men are paid for risking
their lives, and as for myself it matters but little to me, for I
have more to bind me to the other world than to this one. I
confess that I am sorry for you, though. I wish I had old Angus
Tait who was with me last voyage, for he was a man that would never
be missed, and you--you said once that you were engaged, did you
not?"


[1] A whale is measured among whalers not by the length of its
body, but by the length of its whalebone.


"Yes," I answered, snapping the spring of the locket which hung
from my watch-chain, and holding up the little vignette of Flora.

"Curse you!" he yelled, springing out of his seat, with his very
beard bristling with passion. "What is your happiness to me? What
have I to do with her that you must dangle her photograph before my
eyes?" I almost thought that he was about to strike me in the
frenzy of his rage, but with another imprecation he dashed open the
door of the cabin and rushed out upon deck, leaving me considerably
astonished at his extraordinary violence. It is the first time
that he has ever shown me anything but courtesy and kindness. I
can hear him pacing excitedly up and down overhead as I write these
lines.

I should like to give a sketch of the character of this man, but it
seems presumptuous to attempt such a thing upon paper, when the
idea in my own mind is at best a vague and uncertain one. Several
times I have thought that I grasped the clue which might explain
it, but only to be disappointed by his presenting himself in some
new light which would upset all my conclusions. It may be that no
human eye but my own shall ever rest upon these lines, yet as a
psychological study I shall attempt to leave some record of Captain
Nicholas Craigie.

A man's outer case generally gives some indication of the soul
within. The Captain is tall and well-formed, with dark, handsome
face, and a curious way of twitching his limbs, which may arise
from nervousness, or be simply an outcome of his excessive energy.
His jaw and whole cast of countenance is manly and resolute, but
the eyes are the distinctive feature of his face. They are of the
very darkest hazel, bright and eager, with a singular mixture of
recklessness in their expression, and of something else which I
have sometimes thought was more allied with horror than any other
emotion. Generally the former predominated, but on occasions, and
more particularly when he was thoughtfully inclined, the look of
fear would spread and deepen until it imparted a new character to
his whole countenance. It is at these times that he is most
subject to tempestuous fits of anger, and he seems to be aware of
it, for I have known him lock himself up so that no one might
approach him until his dark hour was passed. He sleeps badly, and
I have heard him shouting during the night, but his cabin is some
little distance from mine, and I could never distinguish the words
which he said.

This is one phase of his character, and the most disagreeable one.
It is only through my close association with him, thrown together
as we are day after day, that I have observed it. Otherwise he is
an agreeable companion, well-read and entertaining, and as gallant
a seaman as ever trod a deck. I shall not easily forget the way in
which he handled the ship when we were caught by a gale among the
loose ice at the beginning of April. I have never seen him so
cheerful, and even hilarious, as he was that night, as he paced
backwards and forwards upon the bridge amid the flashing of the
lightning and the howling of the wind. He has told me several
times that the thought of death was a pleasant one to him, which is
a sad thing for a young man to say; he cannot be much more than
thirty, though his hair and moustache are already slightly
grizzled. Some great sorrow must have overtaken him and blighted
his whole life. Perhaps I should be the same if I lost my Flora--
God knows! I think if it were not for her that I should care very
little whether the wind blew from the north or the south to-morrow.

There, I hear him come down the companion, and he has locked
himself up in his room, which shows that he is still in an
unamiable mood. And so to bed, as old Pepys would say, for the
candle is burning down (we have to use them now since the nights
are closing in), and the steward has turned in, so there are no
hopes of another one.

September 12th.--Calm, clear day, and still lying in the same
position. What wind there is comes from the south-east, but it is
very slight. Captain is in a better humour, and apologised to me
at breakfast for his rudeness. He still looks somewhat distrait,
however, and retains that wild look in his eyes which in a
Highlander would mean that he was "fey"--at least so our chief
engineer remarked to me, and he has some reputation among the
Celtic portion of our crew as a seer and expounder of omens.

It is strange that superstition should have obtained such mastery
over this hard-headed and practical race. I could not have
believed to what an extent it is carried had I not observed it for
myself. We have had a perfect epidemic of it this voyage, until I
have felt inclined to serve out rations of sedatives and nerve-
tonics with the Saturday allowance of grog. The first symptom
of it was that shortly after leaving Shetland the men at the wheel
used to complain that they heard plaintive cries and screams in the
wake of the ship, as if something were following it and were unable
to overtake it. This fiction has been kept up during the whole
voyage, and on dark nights at the beginning of the seal-fishing it
was only with great difficulty that men could be induced to do
their spell. No doubt what they heard was either the creaking of
the rudder-chains, or the cry of some passing sea-bird. I have
been fetched out of bed several times to listen to it, but I need
hardly say that I was never able to distinguish anything unnatural.

The men, however, are so absurdly positive upon the subject that it
is hopeless to argue with them. I mentioned the matter to the
Captain once, but to my surprise he took it very gravely, and
indeed appeared to be considerably disturbed by what I told him.
I should have thought that he at least would have been above such
vulgar delusions.

All this disquisition upon superstition leads me up to the fact
that Mr. Manson, our second mate, saw a ghost last night--or, at
least, says that he did, which of course is the same thing. It is
quite refreshing to have some new topic of conversation after the
eternal routine of bears and whales which has served us for so many
months. Manson swears the ship is haunted, and that he would not
stay in her a day if he had any other place to go to. Indeed the
fellow is honestly frightened, and I had to give him some
chloral and bromide of potassium this morning to steady him
down. He seemed quite indignant when I suggested that he had been
having an extra glass the night before, and I was obliged to pacify
him by keeping as grave a countenance as possible during his story,
which he certainly narrated in a very straight-forward and matter-
of-fact way.

"I was on the bridge," he said, "about four bells in the middle
watch, just when the night was at its darkest. There was a bit of
a moon, but the clouds were blowing across it so that you couldn't
see far from the ship. John M`Leod, the harpooner, came aft from
the foc'sle-head and reported a strange noise on the starboard bow.

I went forrard and we both heard it, sometimes like a bairn crying
and sometimes like a wench in pain. I've been seventeen years to
the country and I never heard seal, old or young, make a sound like
that. As we were standing there on the foc'sle-head the moon came
out from behind a cloud, and we both saw a sort of white figure
moving across the ice field in the same direction that we had heard
the cries. We lost sight of it for a while, but it came back on
the port bow, and we could just make it out like a shadow on the
ice. I sent a hand aft for the rifles, and M`Leod and I went down
on to the pack, thinking that maybe it might be a bear. When we
got on the ice I lost sight of M`Leod, but I pushed on in the
direction where I could still hear the cries. I followed them for
a mile or maybe more, and then running round a hummock I came right
on to the top of it standing and waiting for me seemingly. I
don't know what it was. It wasn't a bear any way. It was tall and
white and straight, and if it wasn't a man nor a woman, I'll stake
my davy it was something worse. I made for the ship as hard as I
could run, and precious glad I was to find myself aboard. I signed
articles to do my duty by the ship, and on the ship I'll stay, but
you don't catch me on the ice again after sundown."

That is his story, given as far as I can in his own words. I fancy
what he saw must, in spite of his denial, have been a young bear
erect upon its hind legs, an attitude which they often assume when
alarmed. In the uncertain light this would bear a resemblance to
a human figure, especially to a man whose nerves were already
somewhat shaken. Whatever it may have been, the occurrence is
unfortunate, for it has produced a most unpleasant effect upon the
crew. Their looks are more sullen than before, and their
discontent more open. The double grievance of being debarred from
the herring fishing and of being detained in what they choose to
call a haunted vessel, may lead them to do something rash. Even
the harpooners, who are the oldest and steadiest among them, are
joining in the general agitation.

Apart from this absurd outbreak of superstition, things are looking
rather more cheerful. The pack which was forming to the south of
us has partly cleared away, and the water is so warm as to lead me
to believe that we are lying in one of those branches of the gulf-
stream which run up between Greenland and Spitzbergen. There
are numerous small Medusse and sealemons about the ship, with
abundance of shrimps, so that there is every possibility of "fish"
being sighted. Indeed one was seen blowing about dinner-time, but
in such a position that it was impossible for the boats to follow
it.

September 13th.--Had an interesting conversation with the chief
mate, Mr. Milne, upon the bridge. It seems that our Captain is as
great an enigma to the seamen, and even to the owners of the
vessel, as he has been to me. Mr. Milne tells me that when the
ship is paid off, upon returning from a voyage, Captain Craigie
disappears, and is not seen again until the approach of another
season, when he walks quietly into the office of the company, and
asks whether his services will be required. He has no friend in
Dundee, nor does any one pretend to be acquainted with his early
history. His position depends entirely upon his skill as a seaman,
and the name for courage and coolness which he had earned in the
capacity of mate, before being entrusted with a separate command.
The unanimous opinion seems to be that he is not a Scotchman, and
that his name is an assumed one. Mr. Milne thinks that he has
devoted himself to whaling simply for the reason that it is the
most dangerous occupation which he could select, and that he courts
death in every possible manner. He mentioned several instances of
this, one of which is rather curious, if true. It seems that on
one occasion he did not put in an appearance at the office, and
a substitute had to be selected in his place. That was at the time
of the last Russian and Turkish war. When he turned up again next
spring he had a puckered wound in the side of his neck which he
used to endeavour to conceal with his cravat. Whether the mate's
inference that he had been engaged in the war is true or not I
cannot say. It was certainly a strange coincidence.

The wind is veering round in an easterly direction, but is still
very slight. I think the ice is lying closer than it did
yesterday. As far as the eye can reach on every side there is one
wide expanse of spotless white, only broken by an occasional rift
or the dark shadow of a hummock. To the south there is the narrow
lane of blue water which is our sole means of escape, and which is
closing up every day. The Captain is taking a heavy responsibility
upon himself. I hear that the tank of potatoes has been finished,
and even the biscuits are running short, but he preserves the same
impassible countenance, and spends the greater part of the day at
the crow's nest, sweeping the horizon with his glass. His manner
is very variable, and he seems to avoid my society, but there has
been no repetition of the violence which he showed the other night.

7.30 P.M.--My deliberate opinion is that we are commanded by a
madman. Nothing else can account for the extraordinary vagaries of
Captain Craigie. It is fortunate that I have kept this journal of
our voyage, as it will serve to justify us in case we have to put
him under any sort of restraint, a step which I should only
consent to as a last resource. Curiously enough it was he himself
who suggested lunacy and not mere eccentricity as the secret of his
strange conduct. He was standing upon the bridge about an hour
ago, peering as usual through his glass, while I was walking up and
down the quarterdeck. The majority of the men were below at their
tea, for the watches have not been regularly kept of late. Tired
of walking, I leaned against the bulwarks, and admired the mellow
glow cast by the sinking sun upon the great ice fields which
surround us. I was suddenly aroused from the reverie into which I
had fallen by a hoarse voice at my elbow, and starting round I
found that the Captain had descended and was standing by my side.
He was staring out over the ice with an expression in which horror,
surprise, and something approaching to joy were contending for the
mastery. In spite of the cold, great drops of perspiration were
coursing down his forehead, and he was evidently fearfully excited.

His limbs twitched like those of a man upon the verge of an
epileptic fit, and the lines about his mouth were drawn and hard.

"Look!" he gasped, seizing me by the wrist, but still keeping his
eyes upon the distant ice, and moving his head slowly in a
horizontal direction, as if following some object which was moving
across the field of vision. "Look! There, man, there! Between
the hummocks! Now coming out from behind the far one! You see
her--you MUST see her! There still! Flying from me, by
God, flying from me--and gone!"

He uttered the last two words in a whisper of concentrated agony
which shall never fade from my remembrance. Clinging to the
ratlines he endeavoured to climb up upon the top of the bulwarks as
if in the hope of obtaining a last glance at the departing object.
His strength was not equal to the attempt, however, and he
staggered back against the saloon skylights, where he leaned
panting and exhausted. His face was so livid that I expected him
to become unconscious, so lost no time in leading him down the
companion, and stretching him upon one of the sofas in the cabin.
I then poured him out some brandy, which I held to his lips, and
which had a wonderful effect upon him, bringing the blood back into
his white face and steadying his poor shaking limbs. He raised
himself up upon his elbow, and looking round to see that we were
alone, he beckoned to me to come and sit beside him.

"You saw it, didn't you?" he asked, still in the same subdued
awesome tone so foreign to the nature of the man.

"No, I saw nothing."

His head sank back again upon the cushions. "No, he wouldn't
without the glass," he murmured. "He couldn't. It was the glass
that showed her to me, and then the eyes of love--the eyes of love.

I say, Doc, don't let the steward in! He'll think I'm mad. Just
bolt the door, will you!"

I rose and did what he had commanded.

He lay quiet for a while, lost in thought apparently, and then
raised himself up upon his elbow again, and asked for some more
brandy.

"You don't think I am, do you, Doc?" he asked, as I was putting the
bottle back into the after-locker. "Tell me now, as man to man, do
you think that I am mad?"

"I think you have something on your mind," I answered, "which is
exciting you and doing you a good deal of harm."

"Right there, lad!" he cried, his eyes sparkling from the effects
of the brandy. "Plenty on my mind--plenty! But I can work out the
latitude and the longitude, and I can handle my sextant and manage
my logarithms. You couldn't prove me mad in a court of law, could
you, now?" It was curious to hear the man lying back and coolly
arguing out the question of his own sanity.

"Perhaps not," I said; "but still I think you would be wise to get
home as soon as you can, and settle down to a quiet life for a
while."

"Get home, eh?" he muttered, with a sneer upon his face. "One word
for me and two for yourself, lad. Settle down with Flora--pretty
little Flora. Are bad dreams signs of madness?"

"Sometimes," I answered.

"What else? What would be the first symptoms?"

"Pains in the head, noises in the ears flashes before the eyes,
delusions"----

"Ah! what about them?" he interrupted. "What would you call a
delusion?"

"Seeing a thing which is not there is a delusion."

"But she WAS there!" he groaned to himself. "She WAS there!"
and rising, he unbolted the door and walked with slow and uncertain
steps to his own cabin, where I have no doubt that he will remain
until to-morrow morning. His system seems to have received a
terrible shock, whatever it may have been that he imagined himself
to have seen. The man becomes a greater mystery every day, though
I fear that the solution which he has himself suggested is the
correct one, and that his reason is affected. I do not think that
a guilty conscience has anything to do with his behaviour. The
idea is a popular one among the officers, and, I believe, the crew;
but I have seen nothing to support it. He has not the air of a
guilty man, but of one who has had terrible usage at the hands of
fortune, and who should be regarded as a martyr rather than a
criminal.

The wind is veering round to the south to-night. God help us if it
blocks that narrow pass which is our only road to safety! Situated
as we are on the edge of the main Arctic pack, or the "barrier" as
it is called by the whalers, any wind from the north has the effect
of shredding out the ice around us and allowing our escape, while
a wind from the south blows up all the loose ice behind us and hems
us in between two packs. God help us, I say again!

September 14th.--Sunday, and a day of rest. My fears have
been confirmed, and the thin strip of blue water has disappeared
from the southward. Nothing but the great motionless ice fields
around us, with their weird hummocks and fantastic pinnacles.
There is a deathly silence over their wide expanse which is
horrible. No lapping of the waves now, no cries of seagulls or
straining of sails, but one deep universal silence in which the
murmurs of the seamen, and the creak of their boots upon the white
shining deck, seem discordant and out of place. Our only visitor
was an Arctic fox, a rare animal upon the pack, though common
enough upon the land. He did not come near the ship, however, but
after surveying us from a distance fled rapidly across the ice.
This was curious conduct, as they generally know nothing of man,
and being of an inquisitive nature, become so familiar that they
are easily captured. Incredible as it may seem, even this little
incident produced a bad effect upon the crew. "Yon puir beastie
kens mair, ay, an' sees mair nor you nor me!" was the comment of
one of the leading harpooners, and the others nodded their
acquiescence. It is vain to attempt to argue against such puerile
superstition. They have made up their minds that there is a curse
upon the ship, and nothing will ever persuade them to the contrary.

The Captain remained in seclusion all day except for about half an
hour in the afternoon, when he came out upon the quarterdeck. I
observed that he kept his eye fixed upon the spot where the vision
of yesterday had appeared, and was quite prepared for another
outburst, but none such came. He did not seem to see me
although I was standing close beside him. Divine service was read
as usual by the chief engineer. It is a curious thing that in
whaling vessels the Church of England Prayer-book is always
employed, although there is never a member of that Church among
either officers or crew. Our men are all Roman Catholics or
Presbyterians, the former predominating. Since a ritual is used
which is foreign to both, neither can complain that the other is
preferred to them, and they listen with all attention and devotion,
so that the system has something to recommend it.

A glorious sunset, which made the great fields of ice look like a
lake of blood. I have never seen a finer and at the same time more
weird effect. Wind is veering round. If it will blow twenty-four
hours from the north all will yet be well.

September 15th.--To-day is Flora's birthday. Dear lass! it is
well that she cannot see her boy, as she used to call me, shut up
among the ice fields with a crazy captain and a few weeks'
provisions. No doubt she scans the shipping list in the Scotsman
every morning to see if we are reported from Shetland. I have to
set an example to the men and look cheery and unconcerned; but God
knows, my heart is very heavy at times.

The thermometer is at nineteen Fahrenheit to-day. There is but
little wind, and what there is comes from an unfavourable quarter.
Captain is in an excellent humour; I think he imagines he has seen
some other omen or vision, poor fellow, during the night, for he
came into my room early in the morning, and stooping down over
my bunk, whispered, "It wasn't a delusion, Doc; it's all right!"
After breakfast he asked me to find out how much food was left,
which the second mate and I proceeded to do. It is even less than
we had expected. Forward they have half a tank full of biscuits,
three barrels of salt meat, and a very limited supply of coffee
beans and sugar. In the after-hold and lockers there are a good
many luxuries, such as tinned salmon, soups, haricot mutton, &c.,
but they will go a very short way among a crew of fifty men. There
are two barrels of flour in the store-room, and an unlimited supply
of tobacco. Altogether there is about enough to keep the men on
half rations for eighteen or twenty days--certainly not more. When
we reported the state of things to the Captain, he ordered all
hands to be piped, and addressed them from the quarterdeck. I
never saw him to better advantage. With his tall, well-knit
figure, and dark animated face, he seemed a man born to command,
and he discussed the situation in a cool sailor-like way which
showed that while appreciating the danger he had an eye for every
loophole of escape.

"My lads," he said, "no doubt you think I brought you into this
fix, if it is a fix, and maybe some of you feel bitter against me
on account of it. But you must remember that for many a season no
ship that comes to the country has brought in as much oil-money as
the old Pole-Star, and every one of you has had his share of it.
You can leave your wives behind you in comfort while other poor
fellows come back to find their lasses on the parish. If you have
to thank me for the one you have to thank me for the other, and we
may call it quits. We've tried a bold venture before this and
succeeded, so now that we've tried one and failed we've no cause to
cry out about it. If the worst comes to the worst, we can make the
land across the ice, and lay in a stock of seals which will keep us
alive until the spring. It won't come to that, though, for you'll
see the Scotch coast again before three weeks are out. At present
every man must go on half rations, share and share alike, and no
favour to any. Keep up your hearts and you'll pull through this as
you've pulled through many a danger before." These few simple
words of his had a wonderful effect upon the crew. His former
unpopularity was forgotten, and the old harpooner whom I have
already mentioned for his superstition, led off three cheers, which
were heartily joined in by all hands.

September 16th.--The wind has veered round to the north during
the night, and the ice shows some symptoms of opening out. The men
are in a good humour in spite of the short allowance upon which
they have been placed. Steam is kept up in the engine-room, that
there may be no delay should an opportunity for escape present
itself. The Captain is in exuberant spirits, though he still
retains that wild "fey" expression which I have already remarked
upon. This burst of cheerfulness puzzles me more than his former
gloom. I cannot understand it. I think I mentioned in an
early part of this journal that one of his oddities is that he
never permits any person to enter his cabin, but insists upon
making his own bed, such as it is, and performing every other
office for himself. To my surprise he handed me the key to-day and
requested me to go down there and take the time by his chronometer
while he measured the altitude of the sun at noon. It is a bare
little room, containing a washing-stand and a few books, but little
else in the way of luxury, except some pictures upon the walls.
The majority of these are small cheap oleographs, but there was one
water-colour sketch of the head of a young lady which arrested my
attention. It was evidently a portrait, and not one of those fancy
types of female beauty which sailors particularly affect. No
artist could have evolved from his own mind such a curious mixture
of character and weakness. The languid, dreamy eyes, with their
drooping lashes, and the broad, low brow, unruffled by thought or
care, were in strong contrast with the clean-cut, prominent jaw,
and the resolute set of the lower lip. Underneath it in one of the
corners was written, "M. B., aet. 19." That any one in the short
space of nineteen years of existence could develop such strength of
will as was stamped upon her face seemed to me at the time to be
well-nigh incredible. She must have been an extraordinary woman.
Her features have thrown such a glamour over me that, though I had
but a fleeting glance at them, I could, were I a draughtsman,
reproduce them line for line upon this page of the journal. I
wonder what part she has played in our Captain's life. He has
hung her picture at the end of his berth, so that his eyes
continually rest upon it. Were he a less reserved man I should
make some remark upon the subject. Of the other things in his
cabin there was nothing worthy of mention--uniform coats, a camp-
stool, small looking-glass, tobacco-box, and numerous pipes,
including an oriental hookah--which, by-the-bye, gives some colour
to Mr. Milne's story about his participation in the war, though the
connection may seem rather a distant one.

11.20 P.M.--Captain just gone to bed after a long and interesting
conversation on general topics. When he chooses he can be a most
fascinating companion, being remarkably well-read, and having the
power of expressing his opinion forcibly without appearing to be
dogmatic. I hate to have my intellectual toes trod upon. He spoke
about the nature of the soul, and sketched out the views of
Aristotle and Plato upon the subject in a masterly manner. He
seems to have a leaning for metempsychosis and the doctrines of
Pythagoras. In discussing them we touched upon modern
spiritualism, and I made some joking allusion to the impostures of
Slade, upon which, to my surprise, he warned me most impressively
against confusing the innocent with the guilty, and argued that it
would be as logical to brand Christianity as an error because
Judas, who professed that religion, was a villain. He shortly
afterwards bade me good-night and retired to his room.

The wind is freshening up, and blows steadily from the north. The
nights are as dark now as they are in England. I hope to-morrow
may set us free from our frozen fetters.

September 17th.--The Bogie again. Thank Heaven that I have
strong nerves! The superstition of these poor fellows, and the
circumstantial accounts which they give, with the utmost
earnestness and self-conviction, would horrify any man not
accustomed to their ways. There are many versions of the matter,
but the sum-total of them all is that something uncanny has been
flitting round the ship all night, and that Sandie M`Donald of
Peterhead and "lang" Peter Williamson of Shetland saw it, as also
did Mr. Milne on the bridge--so, having three witnesses, they can
make a better case of it than the second mate did. I spoke to
Milne after breakfast, and told him that he should be above such
nonsense, and that as an officer he ought to set the men a better
example. He shook his weatherbeaten head ominously, but answered
with characteristic caution, "Mebbe aye, mebbe na, Doctor," he
said; "I didna ca' it a ghaist. I canna' say I preen my faith in
sea-bogles an' the like, though there's a mony as claims to ha'
seen a' that and waur. I'm no easy feared, but maybe your ain
bluid would run a bit cauld, mun, if instead o' speerin' aboot it
in daylicht ye were wi' me last night, an' seed an awfu' like
shape, white an' gruesome, whiles here, whiles there, an' it
greetin' and ca'ing in the darkness like a bit lambie that hae lost
its mither. Ye would na' be sae ready to put it a' doon to
auld wives' clavers then, I'm thinkin'." I saw it was hopeless to
reason with him, so contented myself with begging him as a personal
favour to call me up the next time the spectre appeared--a request
to which he acceded with many ejaculations expressive of his hopes
that such an opportunity might never arise.

As I had hoped, the white desert behind us has become broken by
many thin streaks of water which intersect it in all directions.
Our latitude to-day was 80 degrees 52' N., which shows that there
is a strong southerly drift upon the pack. Should the wind
continue favourable it will break up as rapidly as it formed. At
present we can do nothing but smoke and wait and hope for the best.
I am rapidly becoming a fatalist. When dealing with such uncertain
factors as wind and ice a man can be nothing else. Perhaps it was
the wind and sand of the Arabian deserts which gave the minds of
the original followers of Mahomet their tendency to bow to kismet.

These spectral alarms have a very bad effect upon the Captain. I
feared that it might excite his sensitive mind, and endeavoured to
conceal the absurd story from him, but unfortunately he overheard
one of the men making an allusion to it, and insisted upon being
informed about it. As I had expected, it brought out all his
latent lunacy in an exaggerated form. I can hardly believe that
this is the same man who discoursed philosophy last night with the
most critical acumen and coolest judgment. He is pacing backwards
and forwards upon the quarterdeck like a caged tiger, stopping
now and again to throw out his hands with a yearning gesture, and
stare impatiently out over the ice. He keeps up a continual mutter
to himself, and once he called out, "But a little time, love--but
a little time!" Poor fellow, it is sad to see a gallant seaman and
accomplished gentleman reduced to such a pass, and to think that
imagination and delusion can cow a mind to which real danger was
but the salt of life. Was ever a man in such a position as I,
between a demented captain and a ghost-seeing mate? I sometimes
think I am the only really sane man aboard the vessel--except
perhaps the second engineer, who is a kind of ruminant, and would
care nothing for all the fiends in the Red Sea so long as they
would leave him alone and not disarrange his tools.

The ice is still opening rapidly, and there is every probability of
our being able to make a start to-morrow morning. They will think
I am inventing when I tell them at home all the strange things that
have befallen me.

12 P.M.--I have been a good deal startled, though I feel steadier
now, thanks to a stiff glass of brandy. I am hardly myself yet,
however, as this handwriting will testify. The fact is, that I
have gone through a very strange experience, and am beginning to
doubt whether I was justified in branding every one on board as
madmen because they professed to have seen things which did not
seem reasonable to my understanding. Pshaw! I am a fool to let
such a trifle unnerve me; and yet, coming as it does after all
these alarms, it has an additional significance, for I cannot doubt
either Mr. Manson's story or that of the mate, now that I have
experienced that which I used formerly to scoff at.

After all it was nothing very alarming--a mere sound, and that was
all. I cannot expect that any one reading this, if any one ever
should read it, will sympathise with my feelings, or realise the
effect which it produced upon me at the time. Supper was over, and
I had gone on deck to have a quiet pipe before turning in. The
night was very dark--so dark that, standing under the quarter-boat,
I was unable to see the officer upon the bridge. I think I have
already mentioned the extraordinary silence which prevails in these
frozen seas. In other parts of the world, be they ever so barren,
there is some slight vibration of the air--some faint hum, be it
from the distant haunts of men, or from the leaves of the trees, or
the wings of the birds, or even the faint rustle of the grass that
covers the ground. One may not actively perceive the sound, and
yet if it were withdrawn it would be missed. It is only here in
these Arctic seas that stark, unfathomable stillness obtrudes
itself upon you in all its gruesome reality. You find your
tympanum straining to catch some little murmur, and dwelling
eagerly upon every accidental sound within the vessel. In this
state I was leaning against the bulwarks when there arose from the
ice almost directly underneath me a cry, sharp and shrill, upon the
silent air of the night, beginning, as it seemed to me, at a note
such as prima donna never reached, and mounting from that ever
higher and higher until it culminated in a long wail of agony,
which might have been the last cry of a lost soul. The ghastly
scream is still ringing in my ears. Grief, unutterable grief,
seemed to be expressed in it, and a great longing, and yet through
it all there was an occasional wild note of exultation. It
shrilled out from close beside me, and yet as I glared into the
darkness I could discern nothing. I waited some little time, but
without hearing any repetition of the sound, so I came below, more
shaken than I have ever been in my life before. As I came down the
companion I met Mr. Milne coming up to relieve the watch. "Weel,
Doctor," he said, "maybe that's auld wives' clavers tae? Did ye no
hear it skirling? Maybe that's a supersteetion? What d'ye think
o't noo?" I was obliged to apologise to the honest fellow, and
acknowledge that I was as puzzled by it as he was. Perhaps to-
morrow things may look different. At present I dare hardly write
all that I think. Reading it again in days to come, when I have
shaken off all these associations, I should despise myself for
having been so weak.

September 18th.--Passed a restless and uneasy night, still
haunted by that strange sound. The Captain does not look as if he
had had much repose either, for his face is haggard and his eyes
bloodshot. I have not told him of my adventure of last night, nor
shall I. He is already restless and excited, standing up, sitting
down, and apparently utterly unable to keep still.

A fine lead appeared in the pack this morning, as I had
expected, and we were able to cast off our ice-anchor, and steam
about twelve miles in a west-sou'-westerly direction. We were then
brought to a halt by a great floe as massive as any which we have
left behind us. It bars our progress completely, so we can do
nothing but anchor again and wait until it breaks up, which it will
probably do within twenty-four hours, if the wind holds. Several
bladder-nosed seals were seen swimming in the water, and one was
shot, an immense creature more than eleven feet long. They are
fierce, pugnacious animals, and are said to be more than a match
for a bear. Fortunately they are slow and clumsy in their
movements, so that there is little danger in attacking them upon
the ice.

The Captain evidently does not think we have seen the last of our
troubles, though why he should take a gloomy view of the situation
is more than I can fathom, since every one else on board considers
that we have had a miraculous escape, and are sure now to reach the
open sea.

"I suppose you think it's all right now, Doctor?" he said, as we
sat together after dinner.

"I hope so," I answered.

"We mustn't be too sure--and yet no doubt you are right. We'll all
be in the arms of our own true loves before long, lad, won't we?
But we mustn't be too sure--we mustn't be too sure."

He sat silent a little, swinging his leg thoughtfully backwards and
forwards. "Look here," he continued; "it's a dangerous place this,
even at its best--a treacherous, dangerous place. I have known
men cut off very suddenly in a land like this. A slip would do it
sometimes--a single slip, and down you go through a crack, and only
a bubble on the green water to show where it was that you sank.
It's a queer thing," he continued with a nervous laugh, "but all
the years I've been in this country I never once thought of making
a will--not that I have anything to leave in particular, but still
when a man is exposed to danger he should have everything arranged
and ready--don't you think so?"

"Certainly," I answered, wondering what on earth he was driving at.

"He feels better for knowing it's all settled," he went on. "Now
if anything should ever befall me, I hope that you will look after
things for me. There is very little in the cabin, but such as it
is I should like it to be sold, and the money divided in the same
proportion as the oil-money among the crew. The chronometer I wish
you to keep yourself as some slight remembrance of our voyage. Of
course all this is a mere precaution, but I thought I would take
the opportunity of speaking to you about it. I suppose I might
rely upon you if there were any necessity?"

"Most assuredly," I answered; "and since you are taking this step,
I may as well"----

"You! you!" he interrupted. "YOU'RE all right. What the devil
is the matter with YOU? There, I didn't mean to be peppery, but
I don't like to hear a young fellow, that has hardly began life,
speculating about death. Go up on deck and get some fresh air
into your lungs instead of talking nonsense in the cabin, and
encouraging me to do the same."

The more I think of this conversation of ours the less do I like
it. Why should the man be settling his affairs at the very time
when we seem to be emerging from all danger? There must be some
method in his madness. Can it be that he contemplates suicide? I
remember that upon one occasion he spoke in a deeply reverent
manner of the heinousness of the crime of self-destruction. I
shall keep my eye upon him, however, and though I cannot obtrude
upon the privacy of his cabin, I shall at least make a point of
remaining on deck as long as he stays up.

Mr. Milne pooh-poohs my fears, and says it is only the "skipper's
little way." He himself takes a very rosy view of the situation.
According to him we shall be out of the ice by the day after to-
morrow, pass Jan Meyen two days after that, and sight Shetland in
little more than a week. I hope he may not be too sanguine. His
opinion may be fairly balanced against the gloomy precautions of
the Captain, for he is an old and experienced seaman, and weighs
his words well before uttering them.

. . . . . .


The long-impending catastrophe has come at last. I hardly know
what to write about it. The Captain is gone. He may come back to
us again alive, but I fear me--I fear me. It is now seven o'clock
of the morning of the 19th of September. I have spent the
whole night traversing the great ice-floe in front of us with
a party of seamen in the hope of coming upon some trace of him, but
in vain. I shall try to give some account of the circumstances
which attended upon his disappearance. Should any one ever chance
to read the words which I put down, I trust they will remember that
I do not write from conjecture or from hearsay, but that I, a sane
and educated man, am describing accurately what actually occurred
before my very eyes. My inferences are my own, but I shall be
answerable for the facts.

The Captain remained in excellent spirits after the conversation
which I have recorded. He appeared to be nervous and impatient,
however, frequently changing his position, and moving his limbs in
an aimless choreic way which is characteristic of him at times. In
a quarter of an hour he went upon deck seven times, only to descend
after a few hurried paces. I followed him each time, for there was
something about his face which confirmed my resolution of not
letting him out of my sight. He seemed to observe the effect which
his movements had produced, for he endeavoured by an over-done
hilarity, laughing boisterously at the very smallest of jokes, to
quiet my apprehensions.

After supper he went on to the poop once more, and I with him. The
night was dark and very still, save for the melancholy soughing of
the wind among the spars. A thick cloud was coming up from the
northwest, and the ragged tentacles which it threw out in front of
it were drifting across the face of the moon, which only shone
now and again through a rift in the wrack. The Captain paced
rapidly backwards and forwards, and then seeing me still dogging
him, he came across and hinted that he thought I should be better
below--which, I need hardly say, had the effect of strengthening my
resolution to remain on deck.

I think he forgot about my presence after this, for he stood
silently leaning over the taffrail, and peering out across the
great desert of snow, part of which lay in shadow, while part
glittered mistily in the moonlight. Several times I could see by
his movements that he was referring to his watch, and once he
muttered a short sentence, of which I could only catch the one word
"ready." I confess to having felt an eerie feeling creeping over
me as I watched the loom of his tall figure through the darkness,
and noted how completely he fulfilled the idea of a man who is
keeping a tryst. A tryst with whom? Some vague perception began
to dawn upon me as I pieced one fact with another, but I was
utterly unprepared for the sequel.

By the sudden intensity of his attitude I felt that he saw
something. I crept up behind him. He was staring with an eager
questioning gaze at what seemed to be a wreath of mist, blown
swiftly in a line with the ship. It was a dim, nebulous body,
devoid of shape, sometimes more, sometimes less apparent, as the
light fell on it. The moon was dimmed in its brilliancy at the
moment by a canopy of thinnest cloud, like the coating of an
anemone.

"Coming, lass, coming," cried the skipper, in a voice of
unfathomable tenderness and compassion, like one who soothes a
beloved one by some favour long looked for, and as pleasant to
bestow as to receive.

What followed happened in an instant. I had no power to interfere.

He gave one spring to the top of the bulwarks, and another which
took him on to the ice, almost to the feet of the pale misty
figure. He held out his hands as if to clasp it, and so ran into
the darkness with outstretched arms and loving words. I still
stood rigid and motionless, straining my eyes after his retreating
form, until his voice died away in the distance. I never thought
to see him again, but at that moment the moon shone out brilliantly
through a chink in the cloudy heaven, and illuminated the great
field of ice. Then I saw his dark figure already a very long way
off, running with prodigious speed across the frozen plain. That
was the last glimpse which we caught of him--perhaps the last we
ever shall. A party was organised to follow him, and I accompanied
them, but the men's hearts were not in the work, and nothing was
found. Another will be formed within a few hours. I can hardly
believe I have not been dreaming, or suffering from some hideous
nightmare, as I write these things down.

7.30 P.M.--Just returned dead beat and utterly tired out from a
second unsuccessful search for the Captain. The floe is of
enormous extent, for though we have traversed at least twenty miles
of its surface, there has been no sign of its coming to an end.
The frost has been so severe of late that the overlying snow is
frozen as hard as granite, otherwise we might have had the
footsteps to guide us. The crew are anxious that we should cast
off and steam round the floe and so to the southward, for the ice
has opened up during the night, and the sea is visible upon the
horizon. They argue that Captain Craigie is certainly dead, and
that we are all risking our lives to no purpose by remaining when
we have an opportunity of escape. Mr. Milne and I have had the
greatest difficulty in persuading them to wait until to-morrow
night, and have been compelled to promise that we will not under
any circumstances delay our departure longer than that. We propose
therefore to take a few hours' sleep, and then to start upon a
final search.

September 20th, evening.--I crossed the ice this morning with
a party of men exploring the southern part of the floe, while Mr.
Milne went off in a northerly direction. We pushed on for ten or
twelve miles without seeing a trace of any living thing except a
single bird, which fluttered a great way over our heads, and which
by its flight I should judge to have been a falcon. The southern
extremity of the ice field tapered away into a long narrow spit
which projected out into the sea. When we came to the base of this
promontory, the men halted, but I begged them to continue to the
extreme end of it, that we might have the satisfaction of knowing
that no possible chance had been neglected.

We had hardly gone a hundred yards before M`Donald of Peterhead
cried out that he saw something in front of us, and began to
run. We all got a glimpse of it and ran too. At first it was only
a vague darkness against the white ice, but as we raced along
together it took the shape of a man, and eventually of the man of
whom we were in search. He was lying face downwards upon a frozen
bank. Many little crystals of ice and feathers of snow had drifted
on to him as he lay, and sparkled upon his dark seaman's jacket.
As we came up some wandering puff of wind caught these tiny flakes
in its vortex, and they whirled up into the air, partially
descended again, and then, caught once more in the current, sped
rapidly away in the direction of the sea. To my eyes it seemed but
a snow-drift, but many of my companions averred that it started up
in the shape of a woman, stooped over the corpse and kissed it, and
then hurried away across the floe. I have learned never to
ridicule any man's opinion, however strange it may seem. Sure it
is that Captain Nicholas Craigie had met with no painful end, for
there was a bright smile upon his blue pinched features, and his
hands were still outstretched as though grasping at the strange
visitor which had summoned him away into the dim world that lies
beyond the grave.

We buried him the same afternoon with the ship's ensign around him,
and a thirty-two pound shot at his feet. I read the burial
service, while the rough sailors wept like children, for there were
many who owed much to his kind heart, and who showed now the
affection which his strange ways had repelled during his
lifetime. He went off the grating with a dull, sullen splash, and
as I looked into the green water I saw him go down, down, down
until he was but a little flickering patch of white hanging upon
the outskirts of eternal darkness. Then even that faded away, and
he was gone. There he shall lie, with his secret and his sorrows
and his mystery all still buried in his breast, until that great
day when the sea shall give up its dead, and Nicholas Craigie come
out from among the ice with the smile upon his face, and his
stiffened arms outstretched in greeting. I pray that his lot may
be a happier one in that life than it has been in this.

I shall not continue my journal. Our road to home lies plain and
clear before us, and the great ice field will soon be but a
remembrance of the past. It will be some time before I get over
the shock produced by recent events. When I began this record of
our voyage I little thought of how I should be compelled to finish
it. I am writing these final words in the lonely cabin, still
starting at times and fancying I hear the quick nervous step of the
dead man upon the deck above me. I entered his cabin to-night, as
was my duty, to make a list of his effects in order that they might
be entered in the official log. All was as it had been upon my
previous visit, save that the picture which I have described as
having hung at the end of his bed had been cut out of its frame, as
with a knife, and was gone. With this last link in a strange chain
of evidence I close my diary of the voyage of the Pole-Star.


[NOTE by Dr. John M'Alister Ray, senior.--I have read over the
strange events connected with the death of the Captain of the
Pole-Star, as narrated in the journal of my son. That everything
occurred exactly as he describes it I have the fullest confidence,
and, indeed, the most positive certainty, for I know him to be a
strong-nerved and unimaginative man, with the strictest regard for
veracity. Still, the story is, on the face of it, so vague and so
improbable, that I was long opposed to its publication. Within the
last few days, however, I have had independent testimony upon the
subject which throws a new light upon it. I had run down to
Edinburgh to attend a meeting of the British Medical Association,
when I chanced to come across Dr. P----, an old college chum of
mine, now practising at Saltash, in Devonshire. Upon my telling
him of this experience of my son's, he declared to me that he was
familiar with the man, and proceeded, to my no small surprise, to
give me a description of him, which tallied remarkably well with
that given in the journal, except that he depicted him as a younger
man. According to his account, he had been engaged to a young lady
of singular beauty residing upon the Cornish coast. During his
absence at sea his betrothed had died under circumstances of
peculiar horror.]