The Captain of the Polestar | Page 9

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