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
There, I hear him come down the companion, and he has locked himself up
in his room, which shows that he is still in an unamiable mood. And so
to bed, as old Pepys would say, for the candle is burning down (we have
to use them now since the nights are closing in), and the steward has
turned in, so there are no hopes of another one.
September 12th.--Calm, clear day, and still lying in the same position.
What wind there is comes from the south-east, but it is very slight.
Captain is in a better humour, and apologised to me at breakfast for his
rudeness. He still looks somewhat distrait, however, and retains that
wild look in his eyes which in a Highlander would mean that he was
“fey”--at least so our chief engineer remarked to me, and he has some
reputation among the Celtic portion of our crew as a seer and expounder
of omens.
It is strange that superstition should have obtained such mastery over
this hard-headed and practical race. I could not have believed to what
an extent it is carried had I not observed it for myself. We have had a
perfect epidemic of it this voyage, until I have felt inclined to serve
out rations of sedatives and nerve-tonics with the Saturday allowance
of grog. The first symptom of it was that shortly after leaving Shetland
the men at the wheel used to complain that they heard plaintive cries
and screams in the wake of the ship, as if something were following it
and were unable to overtake it. This fiction has been kept up during the
whole voyage, and on dark nights at the beginning of the seal-fishing
it was only with great difficulty that men could be induced to do
their spell. No doubt what they heard was either the creaking of the
rudder-chains, or the cry of some passing sea-bird. I have been fetched
out of bed several times to listen to it, but I need hardly say that I
was never able to distinguish anything unnatural.
The men, however, are so absurdly positive upon the subject that it is
hopeless to argue with them. I mentioned the matter to the Captain once,
but to my surprise he took it very gravely, and indeed appeared to be
considerably disturbed by what I told him. I should have thought that he
at least would have been above such vulgar delusions.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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