Atlas Nightshade

Day 18

_Later._--By the kindness of the Board of Trade inspector, I have been

permitted to look over the log-book of the _Demeter_, which was in order

up to within three days, but contained nothing of special interest

except as to facts of missing men. The greatest interest, however, is

with regard to the paper found in the bottle, which was to-day produced

at the inquest; and a more strange narrative than the two between them

unfold it has not been my lot to come across. As there is no motive for

concealment, I am permitted to use them, and accordingly send you a

rescript, simply omitting technical details of seamanship and

supercargo. It almost seems as though the captain had been seized with

some kind of mania before he had got well into blue water, and that

this had developed persistently throughout the voyage. Of course my

statement must be taken _c*m grano_, since I am writing from the

dictation of a clerk of the Russian consul, who kindly translated for

me, time being short.

LOG OF THE "DEMETER."

_Varna to Whitby._

_Written 18 July, things so strange happening, that I shall keep

accurate note henceforth till we land._

* * * * *

On 6 July we finished taking in cargo, silver sand and boxes of earth.

At noon set sail. East wind, fresh. Crew, five hands ... two mates,

cook, and myself (captain).

* * * * *

On 11 July at dawn entered Bosphorus. Boarded by Turkish Customs

officers. Backsheesh. All correct. Under way at 4 p. m.

* * * * *

On 12 July through Dardanelles. More Customs officers and flagboat of

guarding squadron. Backsheesh again. Work of officers thorough, but

quick. Want us off soon. At dark passed into Archipelago.

* * * * *

On 13 July passed Cape Matapan. Crew dissatisfied about something.

Seemed scared, but would not speak out.

* * * * *

On 14 July was somewhat anxious about crew. Men all steady fellows, who

sailed with me before. Mate could not make out what was wrong; they only

told him there was _something_, and crossed themselves. Mate lost temper

with one of them that day and struck him. Expected fierce quarrel, but

all was quiet.

* * * * *

On 16 July mate reported in the morning that one of crew, Petrofsky, was

missing. Could not account for it. Took larboard watch eight bells last

night; was relieved by Abramoff, but did not go to bunk. Men more

downcast than ever. All said they expected something of the kind, but

would not say more than there was _something_ aboard. Mate getting very

impatient with them; feared some trouble ahead.

* * * * *

On 17 July, yesterday, one of the men, Olgaren, came to my cabin, and in

an awestruck way confided to me that he thought there was a strange man

aboard the ship. He said that in his watch he had been sheltering

behind the deck-house, as there was a rain-storm, when he saw a tall,

thin man, who was not like any of the crew, come up the companion-way,

and go along the deck forward, and disappear. He followed cautiously,

but when he got to bows found no one, and the hatchways were all closed.

He was in a panic of superstitious fear, and I am afraid the panic may

spread. To allay it, I shall to-day search entire ship carefully from

stem to stern.

* * * * *

Later in the day I got together the whole crew, and told them, as they

evidently thought there was some one in the ship, we would search from

stem to stern. First mate angry; said it was folly, and to yield to such

foolish ideas would demoralise the men; said he would engage to keep

them out of trouble with a handspike. I let him take the helm, while the

rest began thorough search, all keeping abreast, with lanterns: we left

no corner unsearched. As there were only the big wooden boxes, there

were no odd corners where a man could hide. Men much relieved when

search over, and went back to work cheerfully. First mate scowled, but

said nothing.

* * * * *

_22 July_.--Rough weather last three days, and all hands busy with

sails--no time to be frightened. Men seem to have forgotten their dread.

Mate cheerful again, and all on good terms. Praised men for work in bad

weather. Passed Gibralter and out through Straits. All well.

* * * * *

_24 July_.--There seems some doom over this ship. Already a hand short,

and entering on the Bay of Biscay with wild weather ahead, and yet last

night another man lost--disappeared. Like the first, he came off his

watch and was not seen again. Men all in a panic of fear; sent a round

robin, asking to have double watch, as they fear to be alone. Mate

angry. Fear there will be some trouble, as either he or the men will do

some violence.

* * * * *

_28 July_.--Four days in hell, knocking about in a sort of maelstrom,

and the wind a tempest. No sleep for any one. Men all worn out. Hardly

know how to set a watch, since no one fit to go on. Second mate

volunteered to steer and watch, and let men snatch a few hours' sleep.

Wind abating; seas still terrific, but feel them less, as ship is

steadier.

* * * * *

_29 July_.--Another tragedy. Had single watch to-night, as crew too

tired to double. When morning watch came on deck could find no one

except steersman. Raised outcry, and all came on deck. Thorough search,

but no one found. Are now without second mate, and crew in a panic. Mate

and I agreed to go armed henceforth and wait for any sign of cause.

* * * * *

_30 July_.--Last night. Rejoiced we are nearing England. Weather fine,

all sails set. Retired worn out; slept soundly; awaked by mate telling

me that both man of watch and steersman missing. Only self and mate and

two hands left to work ship.

* * * * *

_1 August_.--Two days of fog, and not a sail sighted. Had hoped when in

the English Channel to be able to signal for help or get in somewhere.

Not having power to work sails, have to run before wind. Dare not lower,

as could not raise them again. We seem to be drifting to some terrible

doom. Mate now more demoralised than either of men. His stronger nature

seems to have worked inwardly against himself. Men are beyond fear,

working stolidly and patiently, with minds made up to worst. They are

Russian, he Roumanian.

* * * * *

_2 August, midnight_.--Woke up from few minutes' sleep by hearing a cry,

seemingly outside my port. Could see nothing in fog. Rushed on deck, and

ran against mate. Tells me heard cry and ran, but no sign of man on

watch. One more gone. Lord, help us! Mate says we must be past Straits

of Dover, as in a moment of fog lifting he saw North Foreland, just as

he heard the man cry out. If so we are now off in the North Sea, and

only God can guide us in the fog, which seems to move with us; and God

seems to have deserted us.

* * * * *

_3 August_.--At midnight I went to relieve the man at the wheel, and

when I got to it found no one there. The wind was steady, and as we ran

before it there was no yawing. I dared not leave it, so shouted for the

mate. After a few seconds he rushed up on deck in his flannels. He

looked wild-eyed and haggard, and I greatly fear his reason has given

way. He came close to me and whispered hoarsely, with 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 his 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 a 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 shall save my soul, and my honour as a captain. I am

growing weaker, and the night is coming on. If He can look me in the

face again, I may not have time to act.... If we are wrecked, mayhap

this bottle may be found, and those who find it may understand; if not,

... well, then all men shall know that I have been true to my trust. God

and the Blessed Virgin and the saints help a poor ignorant soul trying

to do his duty....