A beautiful
crimson curtain, fringed with flickering streamers, spanned the
northern sky. From east to west there passed a succession of
trembling waves of light, many coloured, from faint rose to palest
yellow and delicate green. A heavy cloud of inky blackness hung
high above, and from its upper margin rays of fiery light flashed
far across the sky, casting their reflections upon the sea.
Two ghostly icebergs, floating about a mile apart, reared their
snowy peaks on high, and in the channel between them--most welcome
sight of all--there sailed a ship.
The vessel's sails were hanging stiff about the spars and her
timbers were coated with ice and snow. I steered the schooner
towards her, and we slowly approached. When I was near enough I
hailed her and waited, listening for an answer to my call. No
answer came.
A feeling of awe crept over me. There was something strangely
desolate about her. No hand seemed to be guiding her helm. Not a
man was to be seen on her snow-covered decks. She sailed aimlessly
along, as though all on board had ceased to care when or how she
reached her destination.
I brought the schooner close in to the stranger's side until we
touched, and then I got the large boat hook out and fixed it in her
chains. None of the ship's crew appeared to have remarked my
approach.
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