It was now wearing on towards night and I trimmed my lamps.
Lighting a small lantern, I carried it with me on deck. I made the
two vessels still more secure by means of a hawser rope, and then
went aboard the barque. As I began to climb up her side I was
conscious that she seemed to be deeper in the water than she had
been when I came alongside of her, but the discovery did not at the
moment trouble me.
I carried my lantern across her quarterdeck, and with timid steps
again descended into the after cabin. The lantern shed a ghostly
light upon the figure of the man at the table. I walked round to
the opposite side from that at which he sat and turned the light
upon his face. His long beard was overgrown with the same green
mould that hung over his glassy blue eyes, and yet there was a look
of life about his features.
I chanced to look at the ink pot in front of him. A little black
dust was all that it contained. Then I had a wish to see what he
had been writing in his log book. I drew the volume towards me and
turned it that I might read. The words were in English; they seemed
to have been written by a cold and trembling hand. The last lines
on the open page were in themselves a revelation. They were as
follows:
"It is now seventeen days since we were shut up in the ice.
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