his mouth to my ear, as though fearing the very air
might hear. “It is here. I know
it now. On the watch last night I saw It,
like a man, tall and thin, and ghastly pale.
It was in the bows, and looking out. I crept
behind It, and gave it my knife, but the knife went
through It, empty as the air.” And as
he spoke he took the knife and drove it savagely
into space. Then he went on, “But It is
here, and I’ll find It. It is in the
hold, perhaps in one of those boxes. I’ll
unscrew them one by one and see. You work
the helm.” And with a warning look and
his finger on his lip, he went below. There
was springing up a choppy wind, and I could not
leave the helm. I saw him come out on deck
again with a tool chest and lantern, and go down the
forward hatchway. He is mad, stark, raving mad,
and it’s no use my trying to stop him.
He can’t hurt those big boxes, they are invoiced
as clay, and to pull them about is as harmless a
thing as he can do. So here I stay and mind
the helm, and write these notes. I can only
trust in God and wait till the fog clears.
Then, if I can’t steer to any harbour with
the wind that is, I shall cut down sails, and lie
by, and signal for help . . .
It is nearly all over now. Just
as I was beginning to hope that the mate would come
out calmer, for I heard him knocking away at something
in the hold, and work is good for him, there came
up the hatchway a sudden, startled scream, which
made my blood run cold, and up on the deck he came
as if shot from a gun, a raging madman, with his eyes
rolling and his face convulsed with fear. “Save
me! Save me!” he cried, and then looked
round on the blanket of fog. His horror turned
to despair, and in a steady voice he said, “You
had better come too, captain, before it is too late.
He is there! I know the secret now. The
sea will save me from Him, and it is all that is
left!” Before I could say a word, or move
forward to seize him, he sprang on the bulwark and
deliberately threw himself into the sea. I
suppose I know the secret too, now. It was this
madman who had got rid of the men one by one, and
now he has followed them himself. God help
me! How am I to account for all these horrors
when I get to port? When I get to port!
Will that ever be?
4 August.—Still fog, which
the sunrise cannot pierce, I know there is sunrise
because I am a sailor, why else I know not.
I dared not go below, I dared not leave the helm,
so here all night I stayed, and in the dimness of the
night I saw it, Him! God, forgive me, but the
mate was right to jump overboard. It was better
to die like a man. To die like a sailor in
blue water, no man can object. But I am captain,
and I must not leave my ship. But I shall baffle
this fiend or monster, for I shall tie my hands to
the wheel when my strength begins to fail, and along
with them I shall tie that which He, It, dare not
touch. And then, come good wind or foul, I
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