The Captain of the Polestar, and Other TalesDoyle, Arthur Conan
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The Captain of the Polestar, and Other Tales
Doyle, Arthur Conan
Great Britain -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction; Short stories, English
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.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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