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 proba